I don't write about my parents often, because it's daunting; how can I really do either of them justice? They raised me to try my best, so here goes.
When I remember my Mom from when I was a little kid, I think of her Bermuda shorts, knee highs & penny loafers, gold hoop earrings, big purses with tobacco from her Kent 100s packs, (for the record, after "umpteen" years of smoking, she dropped the bad habbit like a hot potato 13 years ago, when she became a grandmother) Wrigleys Spearmint gum, loose change and crumpled Kleenex. Funny how sentimental I can get about the contents of her purse.
I remember long roadtrips to her homeland, Mississippi in her Cadillac, me sitting on the arm rest (aka "the horsey") flopped over on her shoulder the whole 600 miles. She let me sit there like that, paralyzing her right arm until I just didn't fit anymore, probably around age 7.
She's an especially talented caregiver of the sick. "If I had a nickle for everytime" (as she's fond of saying) she put me in a clean nightgown, changed my sheets, cooled my fevered head with a wet bath cloth, I'd be a millionaire. When I was in 7th grade I had my gall bladder removed, resulting in a nasty staph infection that I swear damn near killed me. It went on & on, I must have missed a month of school, to date it was the most painful, awful physical experience of my life. What I remember most is how much fun we had! I'd wake up at 2 AM in excruciating pain and she'd shuffle me down to the den where we'd watch TV and drink Sprite and snuggle on the sofa.6 years ago today I was in Charleston SC, 1 month into a building arts curriculum on her birthday. She brought my oldest niece Ellie down for a visit and, long story short, that was the very day of my first real undiagnosed MS episode. So weird that it would be on her exact birthday.
Throughout the course of this illness, she has been my hero, my confidant, my helper, my advocate, my partner in crime. And once again, I can look back over all the bad stuff and what I'm left with is the memory of all the fun times we've had, all the jokes & laughter. When I got my first brain stem lesions leaving me with a temporary lazy eye, we laughed our asses off about how goofy I looked. What are you gonna do, not laugh? Not likely!
Need someone to hang out with while, in a fit of anger & relief, you break a set of dishes in the trash can by the road at 11 PM? Mom's there.
She can get things done with her old school Mississippi charm, or as a last resort she can cut through red tape with a very appropriate & sophisticated tongue lashing, you know, in a classy way without uttering one single bad-word.
Old people, babies, and everyone in between flock to her for help. We were in line at Wendy's once when we saw a man fall as he was crossing the street. He got up and made a bee line for Mom, coming up to her and announcing "I fell!" No telling how many people he passed on his way.
Frequently when we're shopping people will ask for her advice on an outfit. Notice, that never happens to me.
(Here she is on the right with her cousin in Mississippi this summer)
You know that supposedly common experience teenagers have of being embarrassed by their parents? I never had it. Not once. My Mom was always the coolest, and all my friends knew it.I'm really close with all my family and I spend a lot of time with my sister and we love to invoke Mom's words of wisdom in her awesome accent "And for God's sake, stop by an outlet mall!" on a road trip or "Well, it's been cool" if you're deciding on the food poisoning likelihood of a pot of beans left unrefrigerated a while.
I could go on & on about why she's such a bad-ass, but instead of trying to cram it all into one blog post, I'm just going to end with Happy Birthday Mom!
I love you!!!
