My mom is in town visiting this week. I’ve re-written that sentence a few times already, because it doesn’t really feel like she’s visiting. When my mom comes to town, we don’t go out to eat or visit museums or drive to Napa. Instead, we nest.
Now that I’m a mom myself, I need my mother more than ever. The constant selfless giving that comes from mothering does inherently give back, in the breathless, giggly smiles coming from my sweet Victoria’s plump pink cheeks when she looks at me, and nothing is sweeter than that, to be sure. But I never realize quite how depleted & strung out I am until my own in-the-flesh mother comes to the rescue.
Projects that I don’t have the time or energy for during my day to day have finally been tackled, under my mother’s wing, and I’m happy to say my closet is half as full as it was last week (and what’s left are the clothes I actually like, without holes, armpit stains, and that fit properly). Victoria’s wardrobe got an overhaul too, and we folded the tiny t-shirts and onesies she’s grown out of, tucked away in case we ever decide to risk it for baby #2(!).
Cleaning closets might not sound fun to everyone, but I can’t imagine a more nurturing way of spending time with my mom. Creating openness and accessibility in my home feels, literally, refreshing. And invigorating. And makes me happy to climb into bed at night in my stripey jammies, knowing everything is in place and my mom’s hands were there to help.
Beyond cleaning out and de-cluttering, we’ve also been cooking. After watching Julie & Julia, we decided to make boeuf bourguignon. My mother took classes at Le Cordon Bleu herself when she was young, and knows much more than I do about french cooking. So, I acted as her assistant, swigging a few sips of red wine straight from the bottle as we chopped and browned and simmered and…eventually ate.
Here we are at cooking school in Florence this summer:

My mom can’t stay forever, as she has her own life (and work) back home, but I intend to carry some of her inspiration and creativity with me when she goes. At least enough to tide me over until our next visit!
Even as I write this, I know that the real trick is learning to mother myself, while I act as a mother for my own daughter. How do you manage to be your own mom?
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