My Three Moms

Three. Moms.

I've known one of them the longest. Her name is Lisa. Great name, right? I call this one mom. She is the one who grew me, and raised me on homemade bread and pinto beans.  My mom loves to garden, and she loves to cook.  She has lilies, pansies, red hot-pockers, shasta daisies, roses, and tulips blooming gorgeously in her garden from spring to summer. She cooks the food that makes me feel at home. We both like being outside.

Then, there is the mom who kissed, and sent off to school, and tucked my Ian into bed when he was a boy in Mesa, Arizona.  She was the one praying heaven down on him while he served his religious mission in Taiwan, and talks to him every Sunday night. Jeananne. This is Ian's mom. I call her by her first name, Jeananne. She is a lovely woman.  Blond haired, brown eyed.  She listens intently. Loyalty. She is so loyal.  Her time is consumed by taking care of those she loves. She has a passion to travel, and always supports our important family events by making a special effort to be there with us in person. She never forgets a birthday of either Ian or I or my darling children, and always sends us something special. I always know she is thinking of us and loves us, and Ian loves his mother.

And there is another mom.   My third one. I call her Crystal.  That's her name. Ian is adopted.  He's always known about his adoption, but he hasn't known his birth mother for long.  About eight years ago, after our first little girl Julie was born, Ian decided to try and find his birth mother. He found her.

For years, she had longed to meet her little black haired baby boy that she had placed for adoption. The first time Ian and Crystal met one of those days. Those special days. The kind of day when earth and heaven meet. Days like these are rare. We were at Ian's aunt Jan's house in Lehi, Utah. Crystal came with her husband and a cute outfit for our  sixth month baby girl. I remember staring at her from the front window.  I am kind of creepy like that.  I was also announcing to Ian what I saw.

"She's here."  "Her husband is with her." "She has black hair like you."  "She's pretty."  "She looks young." "She's ringing the door-bell."

And then Ian and Crystal saw each other.  They hugged.  They wanted to be next to each other, but they didn't know each other-these people made from the same DNA, but separate lives. They were smiling, and shy.  Crystal's husband, Aunt Jan, and I kept the conversation going.  I think Crystal and Ian would have been happy being by each other and not saying much.  The rest of us were craving the details. They are both left-handed.  They both get lost driving down the street.  They both love gadgets, and manuals for gadgets, and playing with gadgets. They have the same eyes, thus the necessity for thick glasses until lasik surgery cured them both.  Our sweet girl Julie has the same lovely eyes and thick glasses. The relationship with Crystal has continued, and now we share memories we've made together.  Like taking my girls for haircuts, and eating Otter-pops on her birthday at the park. I know it doesn't usually happen this way.

All three of these moms are the grandma's to my children, showering them with love, rejoicing in their childhood. Because of the good women that they are they show me how to love. Each in their own way, they show me how to live. They show me how being a mother never stops.  The worry-the concern.  Being a mom never stops, because love doesn't stop.  

Crystal and my baby boy.

And, there is no such thing as too much love. Not in my world.