Baby Gibson has some little illness and has been running a bit of a fever and sleeping fitfully which means that Lily hasn't been sleeping well either and neither has Jason and throw in the fact that they both have had to work, one closing, one opening, and well...I am sure they are exhausted.
So Lily and the boys are coming out today and I am going to play with Owen while Lily hopefully gets some nap time in with Gibson which works out well for me because I haven't seen my boys in days and I miss them.
I've been reading Diane Keaton's memoir and it's interesting. I mean, I love the woman's work as an actor and she's definitely her own self and here she is, in her sixties, raising two kids she adopted when she was almost fifty and I don't know how she does it. Sounds like she's pretty hands-on about it too. She writes a lot about her own mother, how she never found an outlet for her own creative spirit and how sad that was. Lately I've been identifying with the mothers a lot in things I read. The women who raised the writers of whatever I've been reading. I've been thinking so much about them, the good ones, the bad ones. I read an article in the New Yorker that tore my heart out about the homeless LGBTQ kids in New York City. How there's an entire society of them, many of them there in NY and homeless because they got kicked out of their own homes because of their sexuality or gender differences and what they have to do to survive and it's horrible. It's mindblowingly horrifying. And they have formed these societies, these families and they call each other mother and father and uncle and aunt and grandmother and the mother and grandmother may be transgendered women who were born male and so forth and none of that really makes a difference because it's the spirit. It's the nurturing that everyone needs even more than a bed, a meal, a shower.
How could anyone kick their kid out of the house because they were gay?
What sort of love is that?
What in this entire world is more important than knowing that your children are safe and feel loved? I mean, isn't that the most basic thing there is?
So yeah, I guess I'm thinking about mothering and being mothered and grandmothering, too.
One of my favorite movies is The Family Stone, which is one of those holiday movies, at least on the surface, that'll jerk your tears and Diane Keaton is in it. There's a gay son in the family and I love the way the family not only accepts this man and his partner, but adores and cherishes them so fiercely and naturally and supports them so whole-heartedly in their desire to adopt a child. It's a crazy (i.e. normal) family with disfunction and worries and heartache and joy and at one point, the character that Sarah Jessica Parker plays asks, "What's so special about you?" and the mother, the Diane Keaton character says, "Nothing. We're just all we have."
And isn't that it? If there is anything a family should be for shouldn't it be to love and support each other? Without reservation? To hold on tight and never let go and to simply be there? How can this most basic of instincts be tainted by society's mores or by religion? What IS society, what IS religion if not a function to provide love and support to those who need it? To include, not exclude?
Well. I'm sort of all over the map this morning but this is what I'm thinking about. About how very different each of my kids is and how I cherish those very differences and how I am so fortunate to have married a man who does the same. In fact, he reminds me a little of the father character in the Family Stone who is played by Craig T. Nelson. Maybe that's one of the reasons I love the movie so damn much. I don't know. But I do.
I better get ready for Lily and the boys. "What do you want to do today?" Owen will ask me.
"Love you," I will say.
Really. That's all. I just want to love him and his brother and his mother and his aunts and his uncle and all of them. If I have one purpose on this earth in being a mother, if I have one responsibility, it is to respect and love my children. Not to direct their paths on this earth but to give them the knowledge that whatever path they choose or have been given is respected by me.
Hell, I can't even direct my own path most of the time but merely stumble on in the darkness and yet, I always know that this family is there for me, as I am for them, to offer light, to lend a hand or a heart when I am weary.
Isn't that what it's all about?
Well. I think so.
"Which of your commandments is the most important?" Jesus was asked.
"To love one another," he said.