Thankful Post 3

The challenge of being a mother is difficult. My mother was a working, single mother for most of her mother life. I spent a majority of time with my grandmother while she worked. She sacrificed huge portions of her time with me so that we had a place to live and food on the plate. We didn't have fancy digs. We went to church every single Sunday. She did the very best she could with what she had.
She was and still is not a typical mom in a doting sense of the word. She doesn't have a lot of sympathy for the sick and injured-unless you are truly sick and injured. She never babied me for anything. "Are you going to live?" was a common response. Another was "Quit your crying or I'll give you something to cry about." You learned to shake things off pretty quickly.

My husband (then boyfriend) learned this lesson quickly with her. He had some ear infection, which he was putting drops and letting all kinds of ick flow from his ear. On a visit, he was sitting at the table, leaning his ear over a towel. My mother walked in and was getting a drink. Thomas says, "Sandy, in case you're wondering, I have an ear infection. I have to put medicine in. That's why I am leaning this way, in case you're wondering. " My mother, not even looking at him, "I wasn't wondering." He did not know what to do with that at all. I told him you have to come up with something much worse than that to catch her attention or sympathy. But, I learned to be self-sufficient most of the time and now whenever I am sick, I just want to be left alone.

My mother likes to cook. In fact, as Thanksgiving approaches and it is my turn to cook, she will be expecting several phone calls. Now this is a department where she will advise and listen completely. I am reminded of two stories....first, let me say that I do not enjoy cooking. She has a huge collection of cookbooks; I do not. She offers to make dishes for events; I buy something at the store. I didn't inherit the love of cooking or the talent.

In high school, I was taking Spanish and decided to make paella. From a cookbook written completely in Spanish. This was not the problem. The problem was once I translated it, I still didn't know the cooking terms. My mom was working. I called her to ask her about the Spanish word for something, translated what does that mean to do? This went on for several phone calls, until she told me to wait until she got home and quit calling her at work. The paella turned out great, but I drove her crazy to get to that point.

Then, Thomas and I hosted a Thanksgiving dinner on a Saturday afternoon several years ago, because nobody wanted to visit us on the actual holiday. (I write that because we both still can't figure that out-let it go!) We ended up with sixteen people or so in our tiny apartment. I had never cooked a turkey before, so my mom went with me to pick out the turkey. She didn't give me instructions because I guess she assumed I had a clue what I was doing and clearly had forgotten the paella incident.

At 6:30am, I called, saying the turkey was out of the wrap, now what do I do? Wash it and clean out. 7am, now what? Put it in the oven! 7:30am-how long? What temperature? 8am-do I do the potatoes now or later? 8:30am-she tells me to stop calling and she will be over in a half hour. Since then, I still call her to get advice on cooking the turkey and the timing of it all. The truth is that I forget after my turn is over. She secretly enjoys all the calls, I know it.
My mom helped me through college and never told me I couldn't do anything. She let me find my way and supported me as needed. She worked two jobs while I was in school to help pay for books and tuition. I also worked at the jewelry store with her for several years over summers and holidays. My favorite was working inventory at the store-she was usually my partner for counting items. Then I got to find the missing items by checking the books, computer and stock and she would get just as excited as me if I found something missing. She has a solid work ethic-she gets to work early or on time, she never takes sick days and she works hard all the time.

There are always the quirky things I chuckle about with my mom. How she desperately clings to the side of my car door while I drive. How she can watch tv, read a book and sleep simultaneously. How she never uses an alarm clock. How she can put a crying baby to sleep instantly. (love that poodle perm hair below!)
When we moved to Arizona, it was hard on my mom. I was worried about her, because it is basically her and me. I don't have brothers or sisters and she lives alone. She volunteered for a lady who is legally blind, going over to help her write bills, take her shopping and helped in the organization office. She continues to be involved at church with several friends. I know that sometimes while life is busy, it isn't always complete. Visiting with all of us once or twice a year is "not enough."

I know that my mom can seem indifferent to many things. But, after I got married and we joined a large and bustling family, she changed. She didn't have to work extra jobs now that I was on my own. But, we did move on to Arizona and that put a monkey wrench in life for many people, her included. Now, I am certain that she wants to move where ever we settle down. I don't want people to stock their happiness in us, because they are bound to be disappointed, which I try to keep reminding her. Thomas and I are two of the most indecisive people on the planet. But, we know how important family is and how important our children are to my mom and others. Maybe I'll understand that better when my boys are older and ready to be free.

My mom is a hard-working person, many useful skills in her pocket and while I didn't inherit her timeliness or her ability to work with numbers, she has taught me many wonderful things about sacrifice and tough love. I expect my children to be respectful because it was expected of me. She understood limitations too. After failing mathematics (sorry, Terri, maybe you should have been my teacher) since the start of elementary school, I received a C in sixth grade one quarter.(and I think that was the only passing grade for math) That was BIG news and I remember how happy she was that I had improved marginally. She saw how difficult it was and how much I struggled and I still remember that she was proud of my efforts, even if they weren't A's.



Sometimes, it takes awhile to appreciate the people who have been with you from the start. I am grateful for my mom and I love her.