We Dilly Dally While They Die

 This is how I feel by the end of the day.  Mostly because I watch too much news during the evening, yet I cannot bring myself to ignore the news coming out of Ukraine.

The politicians are still dithering about what we can and cannot do or should or should not. It seems to me figuring out Putin and what he might do is pretty simple.  Just look at his history.  This isn't something new that he has just sprung on the world.

I'm not going to rant about this today, however.  I have a new topic! Tuesday is the International Day of the Woman. My heartfelt salute goes to those of us who are mothers.  Especially young mothers with young children. You, ladies, are a most formidable force and I think there just may be hope for the world as I watch you.

Never, ever, underestimate a woman who fears for her child. We began seeing it in this country with all this nonsensical wokism and critical race theory and gender identity, etc., etc. being taught in the schools. Parents, and especially mothers have been at the forefront of the war against it.  Oh, it doesn't compare to the war in Ukraine?  The children are not being killed by bombs. Perhaps not, but their minds are being killed.

Let's move on from that too. Let's look at the images coming out of Poland and Ukraine of the women and children fleeing the horror. They are mothers.  They are resilient.  They've left their husbands behind with little more than they can carry - and their children.  They have no idea where they will go nor what they will do or whether they will ever see their husbands and loved ones again. Will they even have a home to which they can return? Many will not.  And they know it. Yet still, they go - not to save themselves, but to save their children.

These children, both here and abroad, are the future of the world.  We all know it. Here, the parents are beginning to catch on to a country fraught with subtle dangers.  In Ukraine, the danger is blatant. I do believe the mothers will prevail. I hope the children surviving these experiences will look a whole lot more like President Zelensky than either Putin, Biden, or Trump. Those who put self-interest and/or ego before their nations and their people.

Tuesday will come and go with few realizing it's another declared "Day". But since it is, to those of us who do know of it, let us celebrate these women - these mothers. Those who provide the stiffness to the backbones being formed by not only the bad being experienced, but the good that comes from a mother's nurturing.

Motherhood In All It's Glory

I remember back when I was arranging for care givers for my Mother. One lady said to me caring for the elderly was not so different from caring for babies. They were just bigger. I remember thinking my Mom would have been livid at that assessment.

The care giver had her point though. I've been giving a lot of thought to the practice of "mothering" these days. I don't have children, but I'm mothering never-the-less, with Bacchus. Our animals are the only ones we go full cycle with as a general rule. For humans, parents aren't supposed to outlive their children. Unfortunately, that isn't always the way. I understand that pain. Even if my experience has been with dogs. It is my reality.

We started with a bundle of fluff, albeit a large one, that you could watch grow on a daily basis. We struggled through potty training, teething, switching from baby food to adult food. We lived through the terrible twos to the teens all within two years. We enjoyed the antics and adventures of youth and the dignity that came with maturity. We nursed scrapes and scratches and runny noses and sticky stuff in fur and bug bites. And now we wake each morning wondering if the old grey head will rise once more. Full cycle.

Mother's Day is a designated day of appreciation for all of this.

Spring is the perfect time. I remember many years ago when I did publicity for a small zoo in Washington. Spring birthing season was the time of year to get the TV crews to come out and photograph the new born. I've been marvelling at the mating and nesting habits of our backyard birds. The broken wing act of the Killdeer and the ferocious in-your-face screeching when you get to close, to the bullying of the Magpies. We have them all. They're all wonderful, living creatures bringing life into this world and nurturing it until it's able to fend for itself.

A couple of weeks ago a friend sent me a link to a live feed of an eagle's nest. I've watched her sit the eggs, watched them hatch and watched her feed them. She fusses over them, warms them, it touches one's soul.

It's a female thing that spans species wherever and whatever they may be. It's who we are and what we are meant to do in the grand scheme of things, each in our own way.

Another video has been making the rounds. I've received it from several people. It's a couple of years old, has been edited to be a nature film and sums it up perfectly. Add your look to the three million who have already viewed it. Don't mute it, the track is part of the story. It's motherhood - in all it's glory.

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

One reason I was so pro Obama during the election season was due to his age. No one knows better how old and tired those of my generation are then we members of it. I've felt for a long time new energy needs to be introduced into the process of running the country to the running of businesses large and small. Heck, energy period. A commodity which I find in short supply these days.

One of the more difficult aspects of adjusting to the generational difference is one of realizing attitudes differ. It is no longer taboo to have sex before marriage and children out of wedlock. In my day the guys had bragging rights and the girls were ostracized. Morality has a new definition. I don't even know what it is any more. It is a rite of passage of sorts. I well remember my Mom complaining about differences in thinking between herself and her care givers. "Why should I give up my standards just because they don't have any," she would grouse. I find myself having similar thoughts more and more often, but unlike her, I realize the realities of my generation are very different from today's.

Sometimes, though, the very young seem to have better heads on their shoulders then their parents. As in the case of Bristol Palin; she has come to realize the huge responsibility she now bears due to the loosening of what I would have defined as morality.

She is still young enough not to have had ambition and expediency take over truth and common sense. As her mother seeks constant face time in the media, Bristol has had time to reflect. While her mother is crusading for her Christian conservative principles, one of which is the teaching of abstinence for young people; young Bristol is saying, on FOX News no less, that abstinence is "not realistic at all".

When Sarah Palin said about Bristol's baby, "He's going to be just fine", she's probably correct. Because he has Bristol for a mom; not Sarah. I cannot help but wish both mother, father and son the very best. And please, continue to recognize and speak the truth.

Mom

It was March of 2000 when I lost my Mom. She was 95 years old. This picture was taken about a month beforehand. I miss her as much today as I did in the days and weeks immediately following.

You see she was more than just my Mom. She was my best friend for all those years. We had a special bond. Perhaps it was because I was adopted; I'm not sure. All I know is that through thick and thin she was my champion. I was tall for my age and never quite slick enough to qualify for a clique. She taught me how unimportant that was. When I had questions about anything she'd answer them. When I felt like crying about the injustices of growing up she'd hug me; when I wanted to laugh she laughed with me. And when I deserved it she punished me.

She didn't work outside the home. She was always there. Back in the days when families had such luxuries. I sure benefited from it. We lived in suburban Pittsburgh. A big treat was a trip to the city, shopping and lunch. Maybe a movie. Lunch was always at the B&G; Welsh rarebit and a cherry coke.

She and my Dad became band boosters when I was in high school and chaperoned trips to competitions. I was the only kid who loved having my own parents along. So did the other kids. They were neat parents.

Through college, my working days and right up until I married we did so much together. Even after, when we had moved away, I was anxious for the next visit before the one at hand was finished.

She was a woman before her time. She had been a teacher and a business owner. She married a great guy against all odds. He was Catholic. She was not. He was a Democrat. She was not. We laughed. She was the strength behind my dad. His support network just as she was mine and my brother's.

After my Dad passed away we became even closer. The roles shifted to where I became the support network, the coordinator of all her needs. On visits, when doing things became little more than doctor appointments we still talked. And talked. We reminisced. We'd exchange opinions on politics; she loved to keep abreast of all that was happening.

I'd chuckle when she'd call and leave a message. "It's Mother," was all that was said. Save the phone bill for when I was there to talk. Or I'd pick up the phone on a whim to get a "Mother fix". Right up to her last days.

I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself as I write this because tomorrow is her day and she's not here for me to tell her how much I love her. I did, though, while she was alive and it mattered. A lot.

I never forgot a very wise man telling one of the neighborhood youngsters to be good to his Mom. "She's the only one you've got or ever will. Respect her. Treasure her."

I was so lucky to have had her for so many years. If in fact I am turning into her, as I allude to on occasion when I lament the aging process, I think maybe only partially. I haven't her wisdom, her self discipline nor her grace. But I had her and am a better person for it. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You're forever in my heart.