Mommy Myopia

We are going home this week. I am dreading the long flight but excited to be back. I miss my family. I am a little crazed with preparation for the trip. I have packed and unpacked Greyson's bag a thousand times, written and rewritten list after list. My mind projects to the plane, the bathroom on the plane, our room at home...trying to think of every possible scenario of what he might need. Usually when I go home, I think of every item that might make me more comfortable during the flight; an eye mask, earplugs, moisturizer or a good book. This time, I'm hunting around the house for everyday items that would make good toys to surprise him with on the plane; my old cell phone, my Lasik goggles, a Tupperware lid. I've packed his little food baggie three times already in anticipation of worse-case-scenarios like a nursing strike, my milk supply dwindling, constipation (his) or dehydration (also his). I am a mother now, and my son's comfort is mine.

When Greyson was born, my mom came and stayed with us for two months. One day we were leaving to bring Greyson to the doctor's. I was hobbling around the house trying to pack his bag and make sure we had everything for him. She was hobbling after me nagging me to drink the bowl of black bean soup she'd made me on the kitchen counter. It was aggravating, and at the time, I was less than appreciative. All I could see was Greyson, I didn't have space in my brain for anyone or anything else. I finally snapped and said, "You know what, Mom, I have to get stuff ready Greyson right now ok? The last thing on my mind is eating that bowl of soup. It is not important to me right now." She replied hotly, "But as your mother, it's important to me." I understand that now. My mom would cook for me when she was here, dishes laden with ginger and sesame oil. As I ate, she'd sit across from me and say, "Mummy see you eat like that, I feel so happy."

Yesterday I received an email from my mom and it reads, "Your arrival getting nearer...aiyoh...very STRESSFUL." She always used to say that whenever we go home, she gets so busy preparing for our arrival. I never understood what was so stressful about it until now. She's trying to anticipate my needs, and she's doing everything in her power to meet them. It makes me laugh to think of us two mothers, on opposite ends of the world running around in our own little tizzies, trying to make things easier for our children. It is a waterfall of mothering that cascades from one generation to the next. In the midst of all this pre-travel stress, it's comforting to know that someone is "fussing" over me too.