{"id":1219,"date":"2006-10-09T15:04:00","date_gmt":"2006-10-09T15:04:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog2\/2006\/10\/my-mother-my-self\/"},"modified":"2006-10-09T15:04:00","modified_gmt":"2006-10-09T15:04:00","slug":"my-mother-my-self","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/2006\/10\/my-mother-my-self\/","title":{"rendered":"My Mother, My Self"},"content":{"rendered":"

The other day, after I wrote Dancing With Myself,<\/a> Ned pointed out that I hardly ever blog anything good about my mother<\/a>. I was taken aback by this, and I wondered if it were true. After Mom read that post, she laughed into the phone, saying, “I wish I’d been a better mother.” But I heard that little twinge, that ache.<\/p>\n

This is the last thing<\/span> I want her, or anyone to think!<\/p>\n

I told her that she was a great<\/span> mother, is<\/span> a great mother, and that we are all human and I am fascinated with looking at that human, a.k.a., difficult stuff. That’s just me. I don’t know how to begin expressing what I feel for her, it is so complex, and so much. Dad is easier because he is so different from me, he is funny and really stands out as the Head of the Family. I can stand back and observe him and articulate the Dad-ness of Daddy.<\/p>\n

But Mom. Oh, Mom. Pardon my lousy poetry, but I need to post this:<\/p>\n

My earliest memories
Back they take
me to a time
My heart still aches
For your sweet touch
Your voice so near
A whispered scent —
when I’m Sukey Dear<\/p>\n

When all was well
And life was fine
How time does tell
Oh Mommy mine
That you were there
Always for me
A soul so fair
You’ll always be.<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The other day, after I wrote Dancing With Myself, Ned pointed out that I hardly ever blog anything good about my mother. I was taken aback by this, and I wondered if it were true. After Mom read that post, she laughed into the phone, saying, “I wish I’d been a better mother.” But I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1219","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pSTth-jF","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1219"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1219"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1219"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1219"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}