Mom

Everything I needed to know about being a mom, I learned from mine.

My mom is embodies what the word "mom" means. Though her place in my life has evolved a bit over the years, when I need someone to mother me, she is the one I call. She is my best friend and my confidant. (*well, shit, I'm crying already and it's only the first paragraph*) She loves me, despite my faults... of which there are many! She accepts who I am, though I've wandered a bit down a different path than she has chosen... But in most ways, I'm still just like her. We have similar personalities, similar outlooks on life, similar pet peeves, similar joys, even similar voices ~ to the point that when I answer her phone at her house, callers mistake me for her.

I have mentioned before that I had a good childhood growing up. My mom was a Stay At Home Mom ~ a job becoming fewer and further between that I can tell. Her life revolved around me and my siblings. And it had to have been tough! My sister came just 13 months after my birth, my brother quickly picking up the rear 16 months after that. I can not imagine performing that task. But not only did she step up to the plate, she hit a home run.

My mom was strict with us. She had to be. She, after all, only had two hands and there were three of us! But hugs came often, as well as encouraging words. She was careful to watch what we ate and fed us well balanced meals. She was a good cook ~ and we ate nearly every meal together at the dinner table.

I remember spending lots of time driving around in that old Buick brown station wagon. We listened to Oldies. Lots and lots of Oldies. I still know the words to them all (mostly) by heart. And Mom could remember who sang them, as well as exactly what was going on in her life as that song was popular (she was dating Bill what's his name, or her best friend was Terri, it was played during her senior prop, etc). Unfortunately, I did not inherit that memory!

My mom encouraged my siblings and I to be friends with each other. I often resisted, wanting to play with my friends from school or the neighbor kids. But we learned to get along and our fighting and teasing eventually subsided. I would imagine, though, that by the time it was all said and done, if she'd heard "Amy, QUIT!" one more time, she'd have killed me or herself. I teased my brother & sister a lot...

We did things, as a family, as often as we could. If we weren't visiting extended family, we were going to the local state park for a hike or a picnic or the occasional horseback ride. We went to the library so we could participate in the summer reading programs. During the summers, she took us to the pool almost every day. We occasionally got to go to McDonald's, as a special treat, to eat happy meals and play on the playground. Sometimes, too, on our way home from school we'd take a quick detour to the local bakery to buy a Happy Face cookie.

When I was in grade school, one year I became the target of taunting from my peers. They decided that my nose was less than perfect and teased me incessantly about it. I'd go home crying to my mom, angry and hurt, and she comforted me and assured me that my nose was definitely not composed of the "nuclear nostrils" that they laughed at me for.

When I was a teenager, we started to butt heads a bit as I tried to find my way and she learned how to walk the tight line of holding on and letting go. I think I was good practice for her, as my siblings didn't give her nearly as hard a time as I did. She was always quick to remind us that if there was drinking at the party we were going to, we needed to leave immediately ~ if she ever heard a party got busted and our 16, 17, 18 year old selves were there... we'd never again see the light of day. I always had a curfew, and always respected it. Except for the times when I'd call on the cell phone they gave us for emergencies and beg for just one more hour.

She always waited up for us. She was always there with a willing ear to hear about how our day was or how our night out with our boyfriend/girlfriend was. We mostly felt like we could tell Mom anything. Mostly. And somehow, even if we hadn't told her, she found out anyway. Eventually I gave up trying to hide things from her. I'm really not a good liar... and she is a good interrogator... so it was pointless to try. But she always made us feel like she was interested in our lives. She was never dismissive or busy when we needed a good heart ~ to ~ heart.

Mom and Dad drove me down to Bloomington, Indiana, when I first went away to college. We had had a good time shopping for all the things I'd need to live in the dorm. My birthday happened to fall in that time, too, and they took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant to celebrate. While we were there, she let our waitress know that it was my birthday and 17 year old me had to stand on a chair with a huge sombrero on my head while the restaurant sang me Happy Birthday. Any chance I had of being cool ran right out the window. I was mortified. But not scarred for life... And I'm sure at some point, I returned the favor as well.

While I was in college, she wrote me letters and sent me care packages. She made certain that I knew I was loved and missed, and kept me abreast on what was happening at home, even though I wasn't there. They'd come down to visit me as often as time (and I, still fighting for independence) allowed.

I moved away from Indiana and the only place I'd ever known as home, when I was just 21. A baby really. Putting myself in her shoes, I can not imagine the feeling she had when her eldest child drove away... bound for Georgia all by herself, to join her new husband. She still did everything she could to help me feel I was still a part of my family... writing letters and sending us gifts...

Somehow, Mom learned the balance, teaching me to be an independent person while still being grounded.

Mom is a wonderful grandma as well... warm and loving... fun and entertaining... she talks to the kids on the phone any time they call ~ she's never too busy to listen to them. Or to listen to me telling her what's going on in their lives. If they are ever sick, she calls to check up on them the next day to see how they are feeling. She was there when each of her 6 grandchildren were born ~ if not helping her daughters through labor, she was right outside the door waiting. She was even there when I had the twins, flying out to help me through my marital problems as well as the end of the pregnancy and delivery. If ever I need her, she's there, no matter the cost. And she always knows just what to say... and when to say it. Someday, I hope I master that quality ~ one that I admire most about her.

She makes her time with us quality time. We have deep conversations... she still seems always interested in our lives. She doesn't just find a movie to entertain the kids, she gets down on the floor and plays with her grand kids. She has their pictures plastered all over her office for the world to see her "beautiful babies". She is always happy to get new ones as well, to add to her screen saver at work and her photo albums at home. Somehow, these 1000 miles that separate us have never seemed overwhelming. Because whenever I am in her presence ~ either in person or on the phone ~ I feel like I'm home.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you more than you'll ever know!