My mother told me I was jealous of my brother, so I figured out what that meant, and then excelled at it. I was told I was acting like a princess, so I did. I was told I was overly emotional, so I was. And then, mom told me that all of this was simply unacceptable.

But this is not a record of what she’s done wrong. There is so much more that my mother has done right. Our relationship is perfectly imperfect to the point of a beautiful chaotic overflowing, with no defined beginning and no real end. Many of our interactions still have an oil and water consistency, but I think that once I became a mother myself, the lessons she taught me began to seep out, first one at a time and then all at once:

• Celebrate. I felt like I won the lottery when I finally got a B in tenth grade Geometry. Mom made moments come alive, complete with cakes, elaborate decorations, and special themes to match. She captures life’s little miracles with great energy and purpose.
• Pop The Bubble. Mom grew up in a rural Connecticut home that my grandfather built. She has tried and true American grit and despite the fact that I was raised in upper-middle class suburban New Jersey, I knew that the privileged bubble I grew up in, was not the real thing. Life outside, in wide open and often vulnerable spaces, was where my story would come alive.
• Act Like a Duck. My ducky mom loves the color yellow. She taught us that you must act like a duck, and let the hateful words and actions of others just “roll off your back.” But most of all, she taught us to remain calm on the surface, while paddling hard underneath.
• Get Paint on Your Hands. My childhood home was built in the 1920s. Nothing ever worked well. There was an incident which involved an inquisitive squirrel becoming my roommate and electric/plumbing issues were common. Always fixing something, Mom brought color and life into every room. In hindsight, all we remember is HOME.
• Let’s Have Tea. Mom and I could always find time to sit down together over a cup of Tension Tamer tea. This was our sacred ground. I have worked hard to create such a safe space with my own children, always listening, never judging.
• Get Loud. You need to stubbornly believe in something with great love. Speak your truth so that others can hear it. Even if you need to shout across the dinner table or rehash the same message in several different ways, the world needs to hear your message.
• Read Something Daily. I was reading by age four. Mom and I read stacks of books. I never stopped. I am constantly reading and writing about what I know to be true. This has led to promoting literacy in my own community as a teacher and also to breeding my own word nerds.
• Watch Me Fall. Mom’s greatest lessons stemmed out of mistakes she made. Our children are the purest witnesses of our own humanity. They arrive believing that we are super-human, only to eventually realize that everyone stumbles. When mom fell, I learned how to grieve, how to fail, how to rise, how to treat my significant other, how to treat my children, how to create lasting bonds of friendship and siblinghood, how to overcome codependency, and most importantly, how to treat myself. I have learned to love and trust the woman I have become, as a result of my mother’s often flawed but certainly flawless motherhood.
• Bake Something. A specialty baker, my mom once made a Girl Scout cake for our end-of-the-year ceremony, complete with badges on the sash and glistening blue-green eyes. Buttercream frosted roses littered our refrigerator before catered weddings and one of her cakes made an appearance at my own. When life hands you lemons, you bake something. And life is suddenly sweeter and filled with hope. My mother and I both believe that a life filled with bellied hope, is everything.