Ironing

The emotions have set in. It seems like I find myself crying and tearing up at the slightest prompting. I knew it was going to come, I just didn't know when. We're there.

I'm a stream of consciousness thinker. I can start with oranges and end up with sailboats. It's the strangest thing as my mind whizzes from one thought to the next. Most people probably hate talking to me, too, because I'm the same way in conversation. It's a chatter fest when I get around my close friends and family. We lose track, get back on track, and lose track over and over again in our discussions. For me, it's wonderful. For them, not so much. So I'll apologize in advance for this post. It's a whiz banger.

As I was working on Cassidi's sports scrap book, I found a couple of swim team ribbons that needed ironing. That led me to ironing her graduation gown and stole. Which made me think of Eleanor. She was a master ironer. I hate she isn't going to be with us to celebrate Cass' graduation. I then thought of my mom doing the very thing I was - ironing my youngest's graduation gown. I know the emotions I'm traversing, so I can only imagine the emotions she felt watching the last of five leave the nest.

Then I tried to remember if Mom really ironed my gown or if I ironed my own, and Tony's, since we were married then. That made me wonder if that we're the case why in the heck anyone would have let me do such an important task. But then I remembered that they had let us get married and have a baby at such a young age.  What we're they thinking! I think of Cass and how immature she is right now. I'd say in some ways, I was even more immature than she. Shew, that was a huge risk.

But then I think of where we are now. We successfully raised that daughter and are now on the second one. Sometimes the obstacles that we are faced with seem insurmountable. I know that way back then I (nor anyone around us) would never have imagined the success we've had to this point. I guess they knew what they were doing.

Also, while I was ironing out the wrinkles I couldn't help but think of the similarities of raising a child. The material it's made out of is delicate but difficult to straighten. You can't use the highest heat setting on it or it will melt. The other thing is that it is made in a way that makes it difficult to iron the arms.  No sooner do you get it in position to iron and you end up wrinkling something else.  Or worse yet, you iron a wrinkle into it.

Children come to us in the most delicate of states. Someone once told me you could take a baby and bounce it off a wall and it would be fine because of its forming body and flexibility. Fortunately for the girls, I never tried that. Kids are tough, but if you use too strong of a hand, they do break. Every child is different and it takes a good parent to figure each out. And when we do mess up and give bad guidance, it takes a great soul to forgive and trust again.

Bringing all this crazy rambling full circle, I can only hope that I've been as good of a Mother as mine was. She was always there to cheer me on and iron me out. It makes me sad she's not here so interact with us in this important time for Cass. She'd be so proud of her, I know. But as I ironed that gown, I realized she was right there behind that iron through all she taught me by being the Mom she was.