Thursday, May 7, 2015

Mama Could You Hold My Hand by Dana Alexander

Here is one of my original songs, Mama Could You Hold My Hand, written for my mom (who just happens to be the greatest!).
Not the greatest sound quality - phone sitting on piano isn't exactly the best acoustics!
Enjoy!

Friday, May 1, 2015

Mother's Day Doesn't Get Enough Recognition!

Each year, we celebrate Mother's Day.  A Card, maybe some flowers or candy, and maybe dinner at a nice restaurant.  As a mother, all of those things are appreciated, but mothers really should be celebrated more often than once a year. Of all the jobs I have had over the years, and all the responsibilities and pressure, being a mother has definitely been the hardest.  If you aren't a mother, you just can't understand.  Dad's aren't built the same, and don't think the same as mothers. Being a mother is the one job that I totally doubted my every move and decision.  Constantly weighing pros and cons - "Should I let this go or make a big deal?"  "If I ground them and they miss the dance, will they hate me forever?"  "Was that comment just rude, or were they being disrespectful?"  A thousand questions within myself every single day. Always wondering if I made a wrong judgement, if it would affect their lives forever.  And prayer.  Lots of prayer.  Prayers to watch over my kids.  Prayers to guide my kids.  Prayers to lead them to the one true love God picked for them.  Prayers for me to do the right thing in the moment it is needed. Prayers for me to keep my sanity during those teenage years. Will I ever know if I did the right things? 
Mothers wear a variety of hats.  The pschyciatrist hat - listening and advising without actually letting them know you are advising them. The nurse hat - kissing boo-boo's and diagnosing injuries and wiping snotty noses.  The sargeant hat - becoming "the enforcer" and letting them know that you mean business, no exceptions. The limo driver hat - toting them everywhere, waiting in the car for hours, letting them out without speaking to them(so their friend's think they have no parents). The coach hat - teaching them batting techniques, when you can't hit the broad side of a barn.  The librarian hat - reading the same book over and over before bedtime until you think you will lose your mind, then doing it again, just because they asked.  The chef hat - cooking all that you think is good and healthy, only to be met with turned up noses, or "Sorry, going out with my friends." The umpire hat - two opposite stories of what happened with no witnesses. No instant replays, just a call of right or wrong, always considered unfair by the one in the wrong. The love guru hat - listening to stories about the current boyfriend/girlfriend and trying to offer unbiased advice when you want to say, "Dump them." The medical dictionary hat - when you are asked specific questions about everything under the sun, and you try to use all the correct medical terms while trying to make the red color go out of your face. The spy hat -you know, when you sneak around to see if they are really where they said they would be, or go to the same movie as them and sit in the back, under cover.
But being a mother has been the most joyous and rewarding job.  And, after all my years of wondering if I did this or that right or wrong, there have been a few defining moments where I saw into the hearts of my children and knew, they were good people.  Amidst all the fighting and arguing, they were still ready to sock someone in the eye for messing with the other one.  It was OK for them to be mean to each other, but not for anyone else. My daughter wears her opinions and emotions on her sleeve, so we usually knew how she felt about everything. One time some kid at church was bullying my son, so she promptly went over and told him she would knock the whey out of him if he didn't stop.  But my son was more reserved, so it is of him I speak.  Once, when they were smaller, they were running wildly through the house, and somehow a lamp got broken (to this day, they still argue over just who caused it to fall).  I yelled at them both.That night, when I read a bedtime story to my son, he chose "Mama, Do You Love Me?", which tells of a little girl who wants to know if her mama would still lover her, even if she did many mean things to her. Of course, the mama still loves her.  At the end of that book, my son had big tears in his eyes as he said, "That's a really good book."  When my daughter had an especially bad relationship break-up, he sat on her bed while she sobbed and held her hand.  When she had an emergency C-section, he took off work to spend the night in a chair by her bed, helping her with whatever she needed through the night.
So, I guess I did a few things right.  And as the years have passed and I have had many of the kids' friends in and out of our house, I have seen many kinds of mom's and the effects, good and bad, they have had on their kids.  I am far from perfect, but above all have tried to let my kids know that no matter what they did or didn't do, I will always love them unconditionally.  I will always be only a phone call away.  I will always listen to them.  I will always give my opinion on their actions (sometimes to their dismay). I will always pray for them. And this may come as a surprise to some people, but kids don't really want you to be their friend.  They have enough friends.  They want you to be their mom.  The fuddy-duddy. Even though they will complain.  They don't want you to be at the bar.  They want you to be home in your fuzzy jammies.  They don't want you to wear a bikini top to their functions, even if you have the body for it. They want you to look like a "mom".  They want you to be real - the same at home as out in public. They just want you to be plain and simple.  For you set the foundation of their entire being. You set the rules about what is important and what is not.  Your actions set their level of self-esteem and worth. God must have made us emotional beings for that very reason.  We truly "feel" their pain and their joy.  I'm not saying dads don't love their kids, but they just don't have the same feelings that moms do.
And I can't post this without paying tribute to my mom.  For that is where I learned what it means to be a mom.  To sacrifice your wants for their needs.  To say, "Oh, no, I wasn't going to eat that. You take it."  To stand up for your kids when need be. To have that one "look", that needs no words, but lets them know you don't approve. To love them even when they aren't very loveable.  And to have huge amounts of patience.  So, thanks, mom for being a great example for me to follow!