A Mother's Day Story for You
- marthaengber
- May 10
- 3 min read
The Hidden Gem Philosophy
I was maybe 8 or 9 and my next door neighbor friend, Liz, invited me to her birthday sleepover. Our houses were separated by our driveway, a line of hedge, and her family’s driveway. Mere steps, yet emotionally, the prospect felt like being sent to Siberia. I’d be away from where I felt most comfortable. What if I had a bad dream? What if I threw up from eating too much junk food? Worse, what if the girls stayed up all night? I had zero stay-up stamina even then.
A quiet kid, I held my anxieties close to the vest. When my mom came to me and asked if I needed help packing up my sleeping bag, pillow and clothes for the next day — Don’t forget your toothbrush! — I nonchalantly mentioned I wasn’t sure what pajamas to bring. No little girl wants to be seen wearing worn-out or too-small pajamas to a party with a lot of other newly fashion-conscious little girls, most of whom I didn’t know because my friend went to a different school.
When my mom and I looked through my pajama drawer, she pulled out a really cute little summer pajama set she’d sewn for me. A bright little red, white and yellow smock with ruffles on the sleeves coupled with pajama bottom shorts.
But there on the front, for all to see, was a big slash of red marker stain.
My mom said she could fix it. I wasn't sure what that meant, but let her do my thing while I continued to stress a bit about going all the way over there.
My mom came back to me and held up the pajama top. Where the red slash of marker had been, there was now a perfectly placed red heart pocket.
I was so grateful I would have cried, if I’d been the sort. The heart symbolized that while I would be away from my home, home — and all those within it — would be with me.
I’m telling you this anecdote on Mother’s Day to say that while motherhood can be wonderful, it can also be really tough. As kids, and even adults, we judge our mothers, and often more harshly than we do our fathers. If and when we become mothers, we face that same judgement, both from ourselves and our kids.
As I write in BLISS ROAD,, when my sisters and I finally realized as adults our dad had undiagnosed autism, I was mad at my mom for marrying him. His undetected neurodiversity created a lot of trouble for our family. Even more regrettably, I unwittingly carried over that dysfunction into my own parenting.
So how do we overcome the bummer emotions that can unfairly overshadow the good moments we experience in our childhoods?
I think it might be the hidden gem philosophy.
That begins with understanding why we feel as we do. Once we acknowledge we’re not crazy and that the difficulty really did cause harm, healing begins. That opens the door, at least a little bit, for us to find and appreciate the gem moments in our parent-kid relationships.
Like a mom sewing a little red heart pocket onto her daughter’s pajamas so she can safely venture out into the world, knowing she’s loved.
___
For updates about Martha’s forthcoming books, news and giveaways, subscribe to her website: MarthaEngber.com.
SCATTERED LIGHT, a novel, sequel to WINTER LIGHT
THE FALCON, THE WOLF AND THE HUMMINGBIRD a historical novel
BLISS ROAD, a memoir
WINTER LIGHT, a novel, in paperback and audiobook
THE WIND THIEF, a novel
GROWING GREAT CHARACTERS, a resource for writers
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