Empty Playground

An empty playground brings to mind memories of raising my children. Married at age eighteen and a mother at nineteen, I was not prepared for all that life would demand. The little wisdom I thought I had in my feisty strong-willed youth was minuscule compared to the fathomless wealth of good sense I would need to trek the journey ahead of me.

Does every mother look back and discover her shortcomings? Must I call those failures? I’d rather call them missteps or mistakes. I gave my children love, respect, and discipline while they were growing up. I wasn’t perfect.

My daughter is raising my grandchildren now as a single mom. Once in a while I’ll see her acting in some manner that she learned from watching me. I recognize myself in her and gently suggest that not everything her mother did should be emulated. What? She seems not to know that some of her ways were in me first. I know I act like my mother even in some ways I didn’t want to imitate. But her ways are in me. The good, the bad, and … nah, my mom didn’t have ugly ways.

About Carol Ann Ritchey

Life is good because God is good.
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11 Responses to Empty Playground

  1. Mothers are all cut from the same mold, aren’t they?
    This was my tribute to my mother, but I believe now, that it’s for all the mothers out there. http://traderofdreams.wordpress.com/2010/06/23/the-first-word-i-said/


  2. I read your tribute to your mother. It was very touching. Your mother was special and she let you express your individuality.


  3. Jen says:

    What a beautiful post. Though I do not have children of my own I watch my younger sister (just recently married and just had her first child) and she follows a lot of what my mother did growing up. It’s cute to watch her grow as a mom and as a person. It sort of makes you proud (more or less because I was more of a second mom growing up when my mom couldn’t fill in – which means often time she reminds me so much of myself)

    Happy Sunday!


    • I tried to visit your blog, but I keep getting the message that your web page is unavailable. Perhaps you changed your address or maybe my computer is messing up. Anyway, I will visit you when I find a link that works.


  4. You were the eldest child, I presume. I was also. The eldest child often bears some responsibility for leading and caring for the younger ones. This privilege causes the eldest to bond in a special way with the younger ones, a connection transcending sisterhood or brotherhood. Second mom is the way you put it. Very well said. I understand how you love to see her shine. You influenced your sister more than you may know.


  5. cocohala says:

    This is such a touching post. My parents used to always tell me to treat them well because if you treated your parents well, your kids would treat you well. That never made sense to me. Until recently.

    I look at my aunt and my cousin. My cousin has kids, and I see the same sort of actions on both of them. It’s the same thing. I assume my cousins kids will act the same way around their kids!


  6. I never thought about it that way, but it’s true. We learn the behaviors we consider acceptable from our parents for the most part. Thanks for your comments. You have broadened my understanding.


  7. buttercup600 says:

    This was very touching to me girlfriend…more than you will ever know:)


  8. Thank you. Being a mother is a high calling. I gave it my best but looking back I see so many things I would do differently. Wouldn’t it be awful if we had to keep living life over until we got it right? We’d never be finished!


  9. Kim says:

    Thanks for visiting my blog so regularly. ❤ I don't know what it's like to be a mother yet, but I know what it's like to be a daughter. I know that I'm a younger version of my mom, and probably a feminine version of my dad. I just hope I don't inherit his hair loss. 🙂


  10. I enjoy your blog. I see a lot of my mother in myself. I miss her a lot. She passed away at 46 years old. I was 27 at the time. She was a great mom. I don’t think you can inherit your dad’s hair loss; it’s a male gene. Thank you for visiting!


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