My Spot, Memories of My Mother's Lap

By Tina Chapman DaCosta, Journal entry 9/11/2016

Tina and Mother Eleanor Cannaday, circa 1966 or 67

Happy Mother's Day Mom! And to all our Moms! I wrote this reflection in my journal 9/11/2016:

My earliest memories of “my spot” was sitting on my mother’s lap in church. I was maybe 3 or 4-years old, and after what seemed like a long morning of drawing on the church bulletin, making stick people and coloring with a pencil, I needed my spot. I was no longer satisfied sitting on the hard, well shellacked and butt shined wooden pew next to my mother, nestled in like a rabbit in a hole, boarded by the back of the pew in front of us and the other person sitting next to me. I was entrenched in my rabbit hole coloring, drawing, and swinging my feet as they dangled below the pew. I admired my black patent leather shoes and my white lace socks turned down around my ankles. I liked how the lace flared across my shoes, the contrast of white and black with my mocha colored well-greased legs. Sometimes my shoes would stick together and squeak, patent leather doesn’t like other patent leather, as if the two shoes should never touch or kiss. I suppose the preacher was preaching and the church ladies were fanning themselves. The candy Grandma Julia gave me for my purse was long gone, sucked and crunched in my mouth at least 10-minutes ago, and now it was time for my spot.

I probably rubbed my eyes and yawned a few times, telltale signs all parents know, “the baby is getting sleepy,” but unbeknownst to the child who responds, “No, I don’t want to nap; I’m not sleepy yet.” Well it was that time, and for whatever reason I was ready for “my spot.” My spot was a place that you knew was yours, it was made just for you. It’s there whenever you need it, as if it just materialized whenever you thought about  it or when someone else has it. Like my daughter Ana, when she was less than a year old, my son Aaron was 2-years old, and he was in “her spot,” my lap. 

 

Aaron often sat on my lap while we watched TV together, read a book, or tied his shoes. Aaron knew my lap was his spot. So he would comfortably climb into my lap whenever it was “that time.” After Ana was born, they had to share my lap. Cannaday was about 4-years old, and his little legs and arms were content exploring the world around him. He had grown out of his spot, leaving it for Aaron to claim. Cannaday had discovered other spots, like inside the toy box in his room where he fell asleep sometimes instead of napping in his bed, or the family bookcase where he claimed space for his books alongside my college text books. Now Ana was learning to claim her spot.

 

Ana and Aaron had to take turns on my lap, but it usually wasn’t a problem. Ana woke before Aaron and she would get her spot time in the mornings, when I was feeding and dressing her, playing, and then she would take a morning  nap. Then Aaron and Cannaday would wake up and eat breakfast at their Little Tikes table in the kitchen. So by the time I finished with Ana, Aaron could have his spot. One afternoon, Aaron was sitting on my lap, in his spot sucking his thumb, something he did whenever he was relaxed and in his “toddler zone.” Their father had gotten Ana up from her nap, and she was crawling on the floor. She saw Aaron in “her spot,” crawled over to us and tugged at him crying, “My Mommie. My Mommie,” (Ana began talking very early). Aaron, still in his toddler zone, looked over at her, took out his thumb and said, “My Mommie too,” returned his thumb to his mouth and continued enjoying his lap time. Ana didn’t like it, but somehow she understood and waited. Of course there were times when I held both of them on my lap, they realized a shared spot could exist, but that didn’t replace their own spot time. In time, Aaron followed his brother’s footsteps, as toddlers do, and his spot became the world around him, the rocking chair in the living room, his Little Tikes scooter, and more time with Dad. This allowed more time for Ana to enjoy her spot.

So, on that Sunday morning at Antioch Baptist Church in Cleveland, Ohio, I put down my pencil and paper and made the climb to my spot. I sat on my mother’s lap, unaware of anything else going on around me. Nestled in, I sucked my thumb and fell asleep in my spot.

Happy Mother's Day to my mothers: Eleanor, Mother-in-Love Rose, Grandma Juila, Grandma Hazel, and Great Aunt Mattie xoxoxoxo