Sunday, May 10, 2009

My Mom

I stayed home from church with Kenny this morning because he had a fever last night. He’s been really tired for the past few days; must’ve been gearing up for this. Before Michael left with the older kids I reminded him not to forget my treat. Every year the mothers at church get a big piece of “Real Fudge” from Two Sisters Candy in Mesa, WA and I always look forward to it. I don’t know what makes it more “real” than any other fudge but it’s tasty and I love that they list “margarine” as an ingredient. It always makes me laugh.

In honor of Mother’s Day I think I'll write something about my mother. My dear mother, who has no idea I have a blog (or maybe even what a blog is). Mom grew up on a large farm outside of Lowell, Ohio, the 8th of 10 children. I think all the hard work, discipline, and order necessary for life on the farm and life with a large family shaped her in huge ways. She is never content to sit and relax (until the very end of the day when she falls asleep reading the paper . . .). When I think of all the work she did on a regular basis growing up I figure life with a husband and two kids with modern conveniences must have seemed pretty underwhelming. She’s worked full-time with my dad for as long as I can remember and was somehow always able to keep a tidy home, a beautiful yard, and dinner on the table. She was a runner since I was a little kid and I was always proud to see her receive ribbons and trophies. She, being the completely unprideful woman that she is, kept them in a paper bag in the back of the hall closet. Mom’s beautiful too. She always took the time to do her hair and make-up and always looked younger than the other moms I knew. She didn't spend a lot of time complaining about things and when aggravated she was more likely to hold her tongue than to lash out. I was a normal kid so of course I appreciated very little of this.

As a kid I remember often thinking I ought to carry a notebook and pencil with me. I needed to jot down all the things I would never, never do when I had kids. I was going to be the most awesome mom. I would understand my kids and they would think I was cool. Fast forward to now. I didn’t need that pencil or notebook; I remember those things and do them with alarming regularity. Probably all good moms do. I understand my kids but like my mom who most certainly did too, I don’t let that get in the way of calling them out when necessary. And as for being cool, well, I am so, so totally uncool. Just ask my kids ;).
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