Looking up from my Morning Pages into my daughter Serafina’s eyes, I am amazed. She gleefully discovered peekaboo today, grabbing the wet cloth I was using to wipe away the orange smears of squash on her face. Grinning wildly, she shrieked, fixing me with her giant baby-blue eyes, pausing to see what I would do next. “There you are!” I cheered. Again, she held the cloth over her face and then, bursting into peals of laughter, she peeked out proud and happy. I loved it—scrawling the scene into my journal that has become a glorious chronicle of Serafina’s many “firsts.”
To see her eyes sparkle as she plays is pure delight. They speak volumes, often quite serious, unwavering, brewing—“giving me the business” I call it. These are the moments when I think of my mother, Julia. My mother can deliver that same look, announcing, “I am a mother who would!” The words and the glare full of all the promise and threat implied. Fierce, formidable, and very creative—being on the receiving end of “the business” is not for the faint of heart. This daring streak, combined with my mother’s tenacity and ingenuity, has made her one of my greatest teachers and champions.
This very book is a prime example—a gift—for me and others who are looking to nurture our children and ourselves. In my better moments as a new mom, finding my way through Serafina’s first year, I am discovering who my daughter is and learning who I am as her mother. I am discovering the space between the idea of “the mother I should be” and the mother I actually am—the mother whom Serafina needs me to be. Then there are those moments I find myself wondering and worrying, as I am apt to do. “Am I a good mom?” “Is this enough?” “Am I enough?” And, “Am I doing it right enough?”
Again, I think of my mom. Twenty-five years ago, she asked me if I thought she was a “good mom.” At eleven years old, I piped up, “You are a FUN mom!” I did not see “good” and “fun” as mutually exclusive. A serious child, I needed fun. My mother recognized I needed our adventures—roller-skating around the apartment, driving cross-country, or jumping horses. I needed the opportunity she gave me to be a kid, bravely exploring and enjoying life. Now, I see how so many of my mother’s choices were based on what I needed. She did her utmost to provide opportunities for me to grow into who I am—not just “grow up.”
When my mother taught me to jump horses, I remember her instructing me to look up over the fence and she would call out, “Now! Throw your heart over the jump!” Sure enough, my Shetland pony, Silver Lilly, would spring up over the little cross rail and we were flying! This is one of the many ways my mother taught me how to practice faith in action. My mother encouraged me to see how far I could go. I’m grateful to her for infusing my life with a sense of creative adventure. I hope to do the same for my daughter. I don’t know if Serafina will like horses, but I’m looking forward to finding out.
In the meantime, our adventures are more tame: “mini Artist Dates,” rocking out in the produce aisle with exotic fruits and vegetables or strolling through the greenhouse at the Botanic Gardens to see orchids and bougainvillea in the middle of a Midwest winter. I seek signs of spring on our very bundled-up walks; pointing out the red-breasted robins, the daffodils and crocuses popping up amidst the manicured planters of pansies. This is Serafina’s first spring; sharing it with her, I see the world anew while taking comfort in the perennial cycles.
—Domenica Cameron-Scorsese