To Love Children. This one, I think, was a non-negotiable for her. Perhaps she just couldn't help herself. She loved every child she met. Every. Single. One. She took delight in each baby she held - their cry, their smell, their coos. She loved talking to toddlers and finding out who they were. She was fascinated to hear stories and jokes from older children, and enjoyed giving them presents. She simply loved children, and was a grandma to many.
To Keep Your Children Close. So, the story goes like this: In the five years between me (the oldest) and my next brother, my mom had three miscarriages, thyroid problems, rheumatic fever, and a heart infection. Needless to say, she spent a lot of time in bed, and in order to keep up with her toddler/preschooler, she started asking me to come to bed and share with her what I was up to. After a while, and regardless of her health, the tradition stuck, and even as teenagers and young adults, we would all end our day in my parents' bed, sharing with mom about what had happened to us, our dreams, heartaches, dilemmas, life. And she kept us close to her, taking us wherever she could, getting us as involved in what she did as possible, not missing a chance to spend time with us.
To Let Your Children Go. And as much as she kept us close, she let each and every one of us go. At eight, she dropped me off for my first two-nights-away-from-home camp. At thirteen, I started spending part of my summers working as a volunteer at a camp. And at eighteen, she dropped me off (her only daughter!) at the airport, to send me to a school she wouldn't get to see until my junior year, her only previous contact with the school being the international students director she met only once during a one-hour interview.
To Let Your Kids Be Themselves. Letting go of us came together with the fact that she let us be ourselves. Don't get me wrong - the woman didn't take any crap (from nobody), so there were things we could never get away with. But the superficial, peripheral details, she chose to not fuss over. Like the two times I pierced my face. She knew each of her children to be different, and delighted in each one.
To Teach Your Children How To Think For Themselves. This one is tricky. You run the risk that at some point, your children won't think like you do - which happened to her on many occasions. But she loved us more than she loved her opinions, and she taught us how to think and develop our own. I can still hear her say ¡Usen su cerebro... no el mío! (Use your own brain, not mine!).
To Celebrate Your Kids. Sometimes, we would come inside after an afternoon of playing, and she would start singing "A Very Merry Unbirthday To You!" and we would discover she had baked a cake and decorated the house for an unbirthday party. Birthdays were a big deal - we got to choose our own cake, months in advance (from the one and only cake decorating book she ever had), and she would deliver...every time. (I think my dad can build a cake mold in pretty much any shape you need). And Children's day in our house was a full blown-out extravaganza.
To Dream With Your Kids. She listened to each one of our dreams. Some of them happened with time; some of them she pushed us to make happen. Others are still in dream stage, and some of them might never come to be. But she dreamed with us, and never underestimated or ridiculed what stirred up our hearts. If it held our gaze, it was worth it for her to look at and admire also.
To Teach Your Kids How to Stand Their Own Ground. Again, another one that can backfire, because a lot of times we were standing our ground against her. But I am glad she taught me well how to say "no," and also how to say "oh yes, I will."
To Love Your Children's Friends. My friends were always welcome in our house. She was a friend to them also. She cried with me over the ones who passed away. She celebrated their exciting news as if it had happened to one of her own kids. This meant the world to me, and I know also to the many friends who got the chance to get to know her.
To Let Your Children Know You. We got to see her as the whole person she was - not just as our mami. She let us know her passions, her wit, the way she lived her faith every day, the things that made her tick, her heartaches, her hardships. She allowed us to see her at her brightest and also at her darkest. She lived an open and honest life with us, and by doing so made ours so much fuller.
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