Mom-ish Friends

05-04-14

“Mom-ish friends”

I know I use this term a lot.  

I think I may have coined the term, actually.

You see, not all little girls grow up with a mommy to look to for answers to life’s questions, or to pick them up when they fall down.  Some little girls grow up meek and quiet, watching their life go by in a whirlwind around them, across two states, two schools, and two homes, with two parents who were together, yet not, and always seemed to have something to argue about.  

Some little girls grow up with all their basic needs provided - food, clothing, transportation, schooling, pets, even - and so, they never even realize that they are missing something.  They don’t even know what entitlement is, so how can they feel it?

These little girls grow up into pre-teens whose friends want to be all huggy all the time, and they realize this is the first time they remember giving and receiving hugs.  So then these little girls start building their identity around their friendships.

Then boys want to start giving and receiving hugs, and these little girls realize they don’t ever remember hugging their fathers.

But then these little girls get stuck living with their father, while the person who holds the title “mother” is in and out, back and forth, across two states, working, making whirlwind decisions at very loud volumes.

So, trust begins to build in father-daughter relationships, but then mothers get jealous and make up lies and stories and do everything in their power to rip away the relationships that they never cared enough to build themselves.

So then little girls end up confused and caught in the middle of custody battles, not understanding why they have to choose one parent over the other, upset and experiencing separation anxiety when it’s a “mom weekend”, but not sure from which person they feel anxious about separating, the mother or the father.

These little girls eat too much and don’t get enough exercise, but rely on Nickolodeon and Disney Channel for company.  (They fight too much with their sisters to ever get along peacefully for any actual amounts of time)

Dads win the custody battles and little girls continue with schooling.  When boys want to start holding hands at lunchtime, there’s no mommies to ask for advice.  There’s just daddies to hide information from.  

Little girls find their peace in books and schoolwork, spelling and arithmetic, and get a “Good job, mija” when they bring home a good grade, which by the way, is always an “A”.  

Junior high goes by with no more from Mommies than demanding questions and high expectations when they come to visit.  

By high school, little girls have found some more of their identities and escapes in sports.  Building bonds with teammates is easier than building bonds with family members.

The schoolwork gets more intense, and little girls grow more confused and feel more pressure.  By this point, they’ve mastered the “Thank you for cooking dinner, Daddy” and help with housework and take on more responsibility than they maybe should.

By age 15, little girls have seen how some of their friends interact with their mommies.  They’ve seen the hugs, and the eye-rolling, and the kisses on the cheek, and they hear the “Love you’s” and they wonder, “Why is my family so different?” But by this point, they don’t really care.

Because by this point, they’re getting hugs and kisses from boys and doing well with sports, and algebra and biology and theology at their Catholic high schools, and they’re headed toward a college scholarship.

Then Daddy dies and leaves Mommy in charge.

And there’s so much anger and hurt feelings all over the place that little girls don’t even know how to handle themselves.  But they don’t have to, because they get college scholarships to faraway places like Kansas, so they get to run away.

But every time they come for a visit, it’s fireworks, and not the good kind.  And all along, they don’t know who they are, or who they’ve been, or known guidance, or a mother’s love.  For Mommy was too busy figuring herself out to pay any attention to her Little Girls.  

It wasn’t completely her fault.  She just didn’t know how  

Thank goodness for Mom-ish friends, who step in when Little Girls are 20, 25 years old and help answer all the questions; who stand by and offer words of repair and wisdom, gestures of healing and kindness.  For it’s not the Little Girl’s fault that she wasn’t given what all Little Girls should have.

Thank goodness for Mom-ish friends.

Crazy Cat Lady: Lindsay

Lindsay

 

            My mom and her then-boyfriend came home with her one May afternoon.  They said they found her over by the school, and decided to bring her home as a birthday present for my younger sister.  She was still a young kitten, her gray and white fur was soft, and she was friendly.  My sister named her right away: “Lindsay”.  This was my sister’s 9th birthday.  I was 11.

            Lindsay was there through my awkward pre-teen years.  She was there while we (my sister and I ) were both preadolescently chubby and acne-filled.  She witnessed our chickenpox.  She adjusted to a home that already had two dogs in it.

            Then she was there to greet me when I came home from after-school basketball, track, soccer, and volleyball practices, curiously sniffing my bags and shoes.  She saw good days, bad days, sad days, stressful days; fad makeup and hairstyles.  She saw everything that had to do with two girls being brought into their teenage years with essentially a single dad.  The mom that initially brought her into our home was seldom around.

            She was a companion; she came meowing and headbutting whenever she heard tears or sobs.  She purred happily when brushed or petted.

            In the summer of 2002, she had her only litter.  They were born on July 3.  There were four altogether: Cupcake, Liberty, Bell, and Shamu.  She adopted Smoky, the rescue kitten brought to us by the neighbors.  Smoky was the first to be adopted, after the ad we placed in the Super Shopper announcing “Free Kittens to Good Home” was seen.  Shamu and Cupcake also found homes, but we decided to keep Liberty and Bell.  Liberty was around for about 1 year, then went missing.  Bell was around about 4 years, then went the same way.  We were never sure where they ended up, but searched frantically for both of them.

            All of them were always inside/outside cats, so a couple times, Lindsay didn’t come home for about 2 days, and we freaked out, thinking she was gone forever.  I stressed, cried, and prayed that she would come home.  She always did.  She had her favorite playing spot across the street in the neighbor’s hedge. 

            I took my anger out on Lindsay once.  I think it was high school, and I was crying and she wouldn’t leave me alone, so I threw her onto my bed. 

            When I left for college, it was hard to leave her, and the two dogs, who were also both around at the time.  But, every time I came home to visit, Lindsay was there to cuddle.

            Lindsay stayed at my mom’s house the whole 4 years that my sister went away to college as well.  My mom never took very good care of her (this was after Dad died).  She said her fur flew everywhere, so she kept her mostly outdoors and in the garage.  Her fur got matted.  Still, she never ran away.  She was always loyal.  My sister finally got smart and moved her to Tucson to live with her last year.  She shaved her down and made her feel safe and loved again.

            Lindsay is still alive as of today, August 14, 2013.  However, she has had a few vet visits lately, due mostly to my prodding my sister to get her in for a wellness check.  I have a cat of my own now, and encourage my sister to be a responsible pet parent since this is the first time she has had Lindsay on her own.  The vet was concerned about Lindsay’s overall health.  She had mites in her ears; some of her teeth were questionable and look like they’re on their way out.  She also found an abnormal amount of fluid in her stomach, and told my sister further tests would be needed.

            Now the vet is worried that Lindsay has cancer.  Lindsay will have an ultrasound tomorrow to determine what’s next. 

            My sister just had her 23^rd birthday.  That means she’s had Lindsay for 14 years.  I wish we had kept her healthier, like more routine vet visits.  She never went to the vet for wellness checks ever, and hasn’t even had vaccination boosters for like 10 years.  But we were kids.  Our parents were supposed to take care of us and our pets. 

            They didn’t.  So now, we do the best we can to continue to care for ourselves and our animals, making up the ground that was lost. 

            Lindsay wasn’t our first cat, but in a way she was.  (We had Mota and Zeeper before them; I was 9 ish and Sister was 7 ish; Mota had a litter that all died at birth/shortly after/went missing; Zeeper disappeared.  It was a family legend that certain neighbors to the back stole all of our cats over the years.  We’ll never know)

            She’s been such a good cat.  I hope she feels as though she’s had a good life. 

 (Lindsay, 12/21/2012)