My Mother Inspires Me

If you pop on over to this blog post I wrote in 2012 you can read the post I dedicated to my mother, not long after her second ride in the life-flight helicopter. (Boy was she mad about having to ride it once, let alone twice!)

I don’t think I could write anything more to better express how much I admire the woman who never has endured so much in her lifetime, yet come out stronger each time.

The Trait I Covet Most

There are many things I admire about my mother, but the one thing I struggle with trying to replicate the most is her non-judgmental attitude. So many people fall into the trap of being catty, jealous, negative, spiteful or unintentionally (or intentionally) unkind.

I don’t believe we start out that way, or with that intention. It’s honed from years of exposure to disappointment, failure and negativity. It’s often an infection of negativity and unhappiness spread from others.

I try my best to seek out the positive aspect of a situation, or to turn the other cheek at gossip and unkind words. I think to myself, “My mother would never participate in this kind of talk.” Plus she wouldn’t remain silent. She would rally for the underdog and point out the good qualities that might not be so obvious.

Sometimes it’s so much easier to follow the crowd and join in the nay saying. It takes a bigger person to speak up against the majority. My mother inspires me to be a better person. Especially when I see how my girls love to root for the underdog as well. Here is a poem I wrote for my mother a few years ago. (Keep in mind that I don’t claim to be a poet!) 

A Mother Like No Other

To the woman who taught me about too much blush,

The slowest eater, don’t make her rush.

Burnt my neck with the curling iron,

Nursed me until I was feeling fine.

Made play-dough creatures better than anyone could,

No one can make macaroni salad as good.

Showed me the joy to be found in a book,

Tossing a paper towel roll better than any right hook.

Had vehicles breaking down everywhere we’d go,

Won’t leave the house after a flake of snow.

Be there at 7 o’clock to check that lottery,

Wielding her white hairbrush would make us flee.

She has the kindest soul of all around,

Except when she dropped Gino down.

Made Barbie clothes better than the store,

Now she refuses to sew any more.

If there’s half a bun you know she’s the guilty one,

Gambling and lottery tickets are her idea of fun.

In volleyball she was the queen,

One stoved finger Dad has often seen.

The best Grammy to my girls,

Tortured me with rags when I wanted curls.

The Survivor show, she is a fan,

Used to be Axl Rose was her man.

Her veins are full of Lipton tea,

The movies are a favorite place to be.

Teaching little ones almost all her days,

Coupon-clipping is just her way.

So Happy Mother’s Day to one of the best,

She’s always been a head taller than the rest.

Not just a mother, but my friend too,

Thank you for being wonderful you!

Don’t Forget to Visit the Other Author’s Blogs to See Who Inspires Them

Who Inspires You?

The post She Inspires Me To Be A Better Person appeared first on Author Maureen L. Bonatch.

High School 

If I heard it once back in the day, I heard it a hundred times. Enjoy high school, these are the best years of your life! 

I disagree. 

High School was hard. Not the courses, but the awkward teenage years. Everything and everyone changes. You feel like you don’t fit in anywhere. Every little inadequacy feels as if it’s spotlighted into a massive flaw.  

At the time, I’d blamed much of my social ineptness on not being rich enough to afford the latest social fashions. Or losing my childhood friend. Because apparently once you hit high school you couldn’t have a best friend who was a boy—unless you were a couple. 

I was wrong.

We aren’t rich by any means, but my girls were able to buy brand name and wear the latest fashions in junior high. But it made no difference in their social ease or popularity. It didn’t stop them from losing long time friendships as girls became catty and hormones separated the strong from the weak. 

I’ve never once told my girls these were the best years of their life, because that’s a lie.

Believing that would mean we peak at a young age and the rest of our lives are endured on a downhill slope. What would there be to look forward to? Despite how many times I tell my girls not to worry about these little things that seem so big. That there are so many more things coming. That they’re so much more wonderful than they realize. To enjoy these years but don’t fret about them— they can’t hear me.

I’m just Mom.

The woman who won’t really know anything for another handful of years. 

As I reflect back over my life I can finally assure my teen self that these things had nothing to do with happiness and popularity. I’ve long ago accepted the stunning truth that popularity doesn’t = happiness.

---

You require one thing to achieve happiness. Once you have it, you'll no longer care about popularity.
Share on X

---

It’s a little gem that can’t be bought or shared…you must discover this magic within. Sometimes you can’t unearth it. Then you just have to fake it until you make it your reality.

Confidence

Despite the pain at not being able to wave my Mom-magic-wand and make everything better as I could when they were small, I’ve discovered something blossoming within my young teens.

As they maneuver the senior high years, they’ve finally shed the chameleon shell. The one where they blended into whatever they felt was expected from their friends. They’ve found their true selves and embraced their heart.

They might not see it yet, but I’ve noticed this little growth of confidence…these little changes inspiring them to follow their own path…and it’s beautiful. 

So tell me, what little piece of advice would you give your high-school self? 

Leaving a comment will enter you in a random drawing for a copy of your choice of one of my books in ebook format. Winner will be announced by April 6th. 

The post How to convince my shy teens the truth about popularity appeared first on Author Maureen L. Bonatch.