A Year of Blogging: May 8, 2011

The second Sunday in May is Mother's Day. This year it fell on May 8. It was a little bittersweet for our family. We are in the 'Year of Firsts' since my Grandmother passed away on Valentine's Day. We've passed Easter, and now Mother's Day is behind us. It was a little more than just the first Mother's Day, because she was buried on Saturday- the day before Mother's Day. After the graveside service, the family was told to go to the house so the girls could pick which jewelry of hers they wanted. When I first heard this, I was upset, because I wasn't there. My sister told me not to worry, she had me covered. She picked out a couple of pieces she knew I would like. One was a pin that was a pink rose with a pearl in the middle. Pink roses are my favorite flower, and pearls are my birthstone. My sister said it seemed to be made just for me. She also picked a pearl cross, and I forget what else she said. I'm so glad she thought of me. Even though I have my own jewelry, it will be nice to have something from Grandma. I have a couple of pieces from Grandma Wager, so now I have from both Grandmas. When I was shopping for Mother's Day cards this year, I felt like I was forgetting something. I bought a card for Mom. I normally had a little stack of cards for Mother's Day. Then I remembered, I had no Grandma cards to buy this year. I had just gotten used to buying only one Grandma card, and now I have none. But I still have the worlds' best Mom. This isn't just something I found on a coffee mug. Although it's possible at some point, she did get such a mug. And I know everyone thinks their Mom is incredible. Perhaps that's part of the wonder of being a Mom. They are wonderful. I am also convinced mine is part super-hero. When my sister went to Kindergarten, Mom went back to work. She had been a bank teller when she met Dad, and stopped working outside the home when I was born. Seven years later, she went back to banking. She worked full time at the bank, then came home and worked double time. She woke up early in the morning and packed lunches. Not just for my sister and I, but for Dad too. If Dad had to leave at 3am, Mom was up at 2 to get him ready for work. Then she'd fall asleep on the couch until it was time to get us up and off to school. She went to work, then came home and made dinner. She helped with homework, gave us baths, and made that batch of cupcakes we needed for the class party tomorrow- which we told her about as we went to bed at 8pm. The next morning, there were 30 cupcakes: frosted and decorated prettily. And if Dad didn't get home til 11pm, Mom was sitting up waiting for him. Mom's house was always spotless. She kept up with the laundry, if the hamper was 2/3 full she considered herself 'behind'. The dishes were washed before Mom left the house in the morning, and before she went to bed at night. She made wonderful meals for every dinner. One night a week was leftover night. There may have been the occasional hot dogs and french fries for dinner, but most of the time it was a three course meal: meat, potatoes, and a vegetable. She was the one called when we were sick at school, or when we were in trouble. She made it to countless concerts, programs, and sports events. She did the grocery shopping. She drove us to doctors visits and to play dates. And she took the car for oil changes or new tires. On top of her 'Mom' duties, she taught Catheticism classes at our church and helped our elderly neighbors run errands. In the more than 10 years she was at the bank, she worked her way up to Branch Manager. As a child, I took for granted all that she did. As a woman, I am amazed. I have a job and a house and two dogs. I can't keep up with my Mom, even now. I have no idea how on earth she did all that she did. I find myself in awe of her so often. My mother was the nurturer, and the disciplinarian. We weren't told 'wait until your Dad gets home'. No, we got in trouble with Mom, then Dad came home and we got it all over again. My sister and I rewarded Mom's love and constant presence by both saying 'Daddy' as our first words. Yet if we were sick, it was 'Mommy' that was called in the middle of the night. It was often Dad who got up with us when we were sick, but it was Mom we called for. Mom and I had a rocky relationship for years. We are just alike. As a child and a teenager, I did not want to be like my mom. We fought a lot. Dad and my sister were the peacemakers between us. When I went to college, our relationship improved. Mom sent me long encouraging letters. When something went wrong, I called home and talked to Mom. My Mom was incredible even when I was in college. She sent me a care package every week my Freshman year. She baked on the weekend, and on Monday morning sent a package priority mail to me. The package usually arrived on Thursday. Mom sent brownies, cookies, banana bread, all kinds of great things. She sent books that she thought I would like. She sent little things that made me think of home. And always, a card. I was the envy of all the girls on my floor. I know Mom spent a fortune sending packages, and I appreciated each one. Mom and I are now best of friends. She's the first person I want to tell if something good happens. She's the shoulder I lean on when something bad happens. We can talk every day for an hour, and not run out of things to say. We are shopping buddies. She is still my biggest cheerleader. And there are times that she's the first one to kick me in the rear-end if I need it. She's my friend, but my Mom. I am so blessed to have her. It's easy to forget that our Moms were once little girls with dreams of their own. I once asked her what she wanted to be when she was a little girl. She said 'A Mom'. She is a tremendous success! Mom said someone once recently saw her with Sydney, and said 'don't you wish we could have skipped the children and gone right to the grandchildren?' Mom said "No. I would have missed the incredible women my daughters have become. They are beautiful, strong, independent women and I can't believe I had something to do with it." Believe it, Mom. We were raised by the best!