ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, May 9, 1996 TAG: 9605090009
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETH MACY
Right before dusk every night, my neighborhood is a fortress of activity: People wash cars, kids race down sidewalks, dogs bark and cats try to stay out of the fray.
I like to describe it as a combination of ``Ozzie and Harriet'' and ``Friends'' - only without Ricky's singing and Rachel's cool haircut. People look out for each other.
But for a few minutes one evening last week, the safety net nearly gave way.
My husband and 2-year-old son were together in the living room when I left to water flowers in the back yard. They were both playing music - my husband practicing for his guitar lesson, my son hammering the plastic strings of his toy guitar.
It was almost dark outside, but I was enjoying my time alone and the unusual quiet. I watered my new seedlings, then puttered mindlessly around the yard.
This is what I was doing when Andy, my neighbor across the street, shouted to me. He had just come home and was getting out of his van when he noticed Max playing in the front yard by himself - a few yards from the street - and just a day after neighborhood parents were warned to watch out for a man exposing himself to children. The creep had tried to kidnap a boy who lives one block from our house.
I had thought my husband was watching our son. He thought I was.
Andy was the only one paying attention.
On the eve of Mother's Day, I'd like to expand the definition of motherhood to encompass all the people in our lives who watch out for and nurture us.
It's something we don't often admit to, but I think most of us share a deep, palpable need to be comforted. To be mothered.
So, on Mother's Day this year, let's honor Mom. But let's also remember:
The friend who was too busy to talk when you most needed it - but listened to you anyway;
The boss who let you cry in his/her office so no one would see;
Your friend's mother who cheered for you in the softball stands when your own mom was busy working the late shift;
The worry-wart teachers, social workers, counselors, grandparents, after-school tutors and coaches in your life who blessed you with a ready ear and an open mind;
Your son's doctor - who patiently listened to your child give a stuttering, 3-minute soliloquy about zooming his motorcycle down the hill and then sighed with delight, looked at you and said, ``Can there be a better job than this?''
The day-care worker who spent 40 hours a week watching other people's kids but who, for medical reasons, could not have one of her own. ``I loved those kids, but it was hurting too much being around them,'' she told me a few months after quitting.
Your 82-year-old neighbor lady, who hands out M&Ms freely and who advises you daily: ``Go everywhere as much as you can for as long as you can'';
All the wonderful surrogate aunts and uncles in your life who don't have kids - but who treat your children as if they're their own.
Your child's baby-sitter, who not only mothers your child in your absence, but also mothers you.
And your husband, who rubs your head when you can't sleep at night because he knows you're thanking God - and your neighbor Andy - for that little boy asleep in the next room.
``It takes an entire village to raise a single child,'' goes the oft-quoted African proverb.
To which I would add: A village full of mothers - of every age, race and gender.
LENGTH: Medium: 73 linesby CNB