A Different Mother’s Day
I have been reading so many heartfelt Mother’s Day past, present and future sentiments. It makes me feel kind of envious because I didn’t really have all those memories of my mother growing up. Moments of “my mother taught me to appreciate art and the wonders of life”, moments of “she taught me all my social graces”, moments of “my mother taught me to cook”, etc. My mother didn’t really teach me these things outright…maybe because my parents were so much older than most. When I was 10 my mother was in her 50′s and my father in his 60′s…so it was almost like having grandparents for parents. In fact, I don’t remember my grandparents because they passed away when I was very young or before I was born.
My mom took great pride in keeping the house clean and she took care of my dad. She made his breakfast every morning at 5:00 am, shoveled the snow away from the car before he left for work and had his lunch made so he could take it out the door. Did I mention my mom liked to keep the house clean…mopping the floors on her hands and knees, washing and ironing clothes, dusting, vacuuming and more ironing…mom loved to iron. Mom also sewed most of my clothes. I was garishly tall and lanky and stood out much to much for a shy girl. Apparently I grew too fast so it was less expensive to sew my clothes, which my mom loved to do. Tall and skinny with red and white checked high water pants didn’t help my desire to blend.
I was never encouraged to be involved in school social events or sports. Nor can I remember being told “I love you”, hugged or kissed very often. My parents more or less gave me the last piece of dessert, sewed my clothes, ironed my clothes and kept the house clean…this was how they showed they loved me without telling me. Actually, I do recall my dad telling me he showed how he loved me by leaving me the last piece of pie. I didn’t realize that until I was older and started analyzing my life, it was just life at the time.
However, at the age of 50, I have been married for 29 years (to the same Punkin), have two great kids in their mid-20′s, love art and making stuff, I can sew, taught myself to be a great cook from watching Ina and Giada on the Food Network and hate to iron. I still have a hard time saying “I love you”…it usually comes out, “love ya” because it isn’t so personal and I adore funky clothes, don’t swear (much) or spit.
My mother obviously formed my life through osmosis which morphed me to be who I am today.
So with that, thanks and “love ya” mom!