My mom reads my blog every day…in fact, I frequently write posts wondering how she’ll react or what she’ll think. Not once has she commented, and I doubt she ever will. Her comments come at 5:30 PM as she’s driving home from work. That’s when she’s bored and she calls me to check in.
This weekend is Mother’s Day and today is the one month anniversary of my grandma’s death; my mom’s mom.
When I realized that my grandma was dying, I started thinking about the things that made her valuable to me. What would I miss? What was important for my children to know about this woman they would most likely not remember? It also made me realize just how valuable my own mom is. I began to recognize the things that I now take for granted; the things I would miss if it were her and not my grandma.
There’s the daily phone calls to check in,
the songs she sings on my voicemail for special occasions (or sometimes just to annoy me),
the constant, non-stop, incessant knitting (did I mention it’s never-ending),
and just how willing she always is to listen, help or support me in whatever I’m dealing with.
This week, because of Mother’s Day, I talked about my children and some of the things I’m experiencing as a mom.
Today, I want to recognize the woman who put up with my tantrums, kissed my owies and worked hard to make sure I grew up right.
My mom was really young when she had me. I was born a month after her 20th birthday and by the time she was 24 she had three children. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like! I didn’t have my first until I was 24-years-old and one was hard enough.
Growing up I remember her sitting for hours in our living room, creating mix tapes from records for the jazzercise classes she taught. I also remember how proud I was when she taught the Kindergym class at my school – hopping and flying to “Bullfrogs and Butterflies.”
There were times in elementary school when she would stop by my classroom, dressed so fancy for her job as a fragrance model, and the other kids would ask, amazed, “Is that your mom? She’s so pretty!”
As a little girl I would watch her hands as she drove. Her fingers looked so long and skinny. To this day I catch myself looking at my own fingers on the steering wheel, comparing them to hers.
Throughout my childhood my mom had long, thick hair and I always wanted to braid, brush and fix it…which she hated. There were a few occasions where she allowed me to play with it, and I’m sure it took all of her patience to keep from snatching the brush from my hands.
My mom has always stood up for what’s fair and has instilled that value in me. If I feel that myself or someone close to me is getting unreasonable treatment, I have never hesitated to address the situation. Of course, when I was young I used this on trivial issues…but as I’ve matured I’ve come to see the benefit to myself and others of knowing when an issue needs to be dealt with.
My mom gave me a love for literature. When I was young, she read the Little House series and Beverly Cleary books to my brother, sister and I before we went to sleep. As I grew she introduced me to Anne of Green Gables and Rebecca of Stoneybrook Farm. I will never forget sitting and watching the A&E Pride and Prejudice mini-series with her…eagerly anticipating the latest installment each week as I was introduced to Jane Austen. Part of the reason I want to write is because of this love for words that I know she helped to foster.
Each holiday when I was young my mom would make pies: apple, cherry, pumpkin, banana cream. I never had a store-bought crust and to this day I’m definitely a pie snob. When I moved to college, I decided to take on this legacy from her. I volunteered to make the pies for the Thanksgiving meal. I must have called her at least 10 times in the course of making that first pie, but I wanted to get it just right because I had a standard to uphold.
These are just a few of the many things that I love and appreciate about my mom. Luckily I’m able to share them with her now and thank her for the sacrifices she made, the knowledge she gave and the love she provides. I now see that, in itself, is a blessing and I need to not take it for granted.
I love you, Mom!
I wish I was there to celebrate it with you,
but I’ll be up there in a little while with another grandson for you!
Head over to The GypsyMama to see what she and others are sharing about moms today!
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