For me, as for you, mom is the dearest, the closest, the warmest. Loving her unconditionally. Forgiving her anything. As an adult, you ask yourself: can mom be the dearest? Even when you love your hubby so very much? Even when you love your children beyond yourself? I think that you cannot compare these “loves” because no one invented a scale to measure love-types for a person or another. Mother remains the dearest as she brought you to life, being the first human that you’ve met in this world, the first human that took care of you, showing you her unconditional love.
My only discomfort is that mom lives at a distance from us and that I cannot help her as much as I’d wish to. I am nevertheless happy that my mom is a strong and ambitious woman. That she had the power not to show me how sorry she was after I moved out of the city. That she struggles with solitude. A resolute and independent woman.
From my childhood recollections, mom was not too happy too often. Always tired, worried, sometimes alarmed. She looks much more optimistic and cheerful today. Did she learn how to cope? Or do I see her in a different light? Or had the times changed? No more thought police, no more fear for spoken words, no more ill will, no more night shifts. Or all of the above?
She taught me to be on time, never miss a class, to do my homework and my housework (in that order). When I was 14, I feared for her life after a severe surgical intervention. But she didn’t, or she didn’t make her fears visible to me. My mom taught me trust and self-confidence, invariably. She was okay with all what I did. She encouraged me without excessive praise. Never hit me. The only punishment I got from her was to sit on my knees, on corn seeds. I made sure to force my stubbornness till the seeds printed my skin deeply. Wished her to regret it more than me…
The day I had my first child, mom brought me, at the hospital, my favorite dessert: Iles flottantes! I can still taste it. I was beyond happy to have her with me. Today, whenever I visit her, she spoils me.
“Is Your Mother Single?”
I gulped the smile but then it came back on my face, almost instantly. Yes! My mother is single, actually she is a widow. Knowing where my online friend (who asked this question) was hinting, I shall point the talk towards sex — the sex life of a mother, to be more specific.
I am happy to be called a MILF or a cougar (never forget the shy bunny hiding in the delicate soul of every woman) or the “older” sister of my daughters. I take these mischievous remarks as compliments. It flatters me to find mails from men describing what feelings, or instincts, my photos have aroused in them. I made this choice, or I had to make it, when the sole status of being a mother (and nothing else) had burnt me out. A whispered desire to be just a woman, to take a break from being a mother. To be less than a mother. This because one can never be more than a mother.
Good Pussy Bad Pussy
A. Aimee wrote Rachel’s Tale — or “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” — to delight our beautiful adult bedtime stories. The main character, Rachel, is the wild mother, tired of the quotidian, burning to escape and to taste the unknown. Dealing with the world proves challenging but worth every bit of it. As the gracious version of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, Rachel offers you, the reader, a complete character. The conflict between Good Pussy and Bad Pussy makes Rachel real: the lover longing for a handsome stud fights the mother missing her little son – lover wins on the short run; the wife running away from boredom returns from the inner emptiness of deluxe harlotry – neither one matching her fate. Eventually (spoiler alert), romance and motherhood prevail. There is more than one mother in this archetypal fairy tale of Rachel. It is a story about mothers that I invite you to read. Don’t worry, there’s enough craze and kink in it, enough tears and thrill, enough romance and repentance. “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” makes a perfect gift for Mother’s Day. Too bad that I can’t give it to my mom, but I’ve decided to present it to my daughters. Call it entertaining education if you wish. As a mother, you can yell “no” all the time at your kids. Just keep in mind that it won’t have much of an effect. Giving them a good read is better than a long lecture.