My Mother, in Particular

Rounding out the week of posts on the "Motherhood" theme, I figured the proper ending would be to post about my own mother.

The number of psychology based articles discussing Mother-Child relationships is mind-boggling.  Many times, that relationship (or lack thereof) is discussed as part of the reasoning behind some sick things that happen in this world.  Johnny burned down a church because his mother didn't hug him enough.  Sydney went on a shooting rampage because her mother made her eat broccoli.  Some of it seems legitimate, some of it does not.

There is a lot of finger-pointing to be had in a lifetime, and often it is traced back to that Woman with whom you had your first real relationship.  It is pretty amazing how you consider this more seriously when you become a Mother, yourself.  Every decision you make has you imagining the effects for things in the future, and you often play the News Reel of your child's some day 5th grade teacher saying (after he has been arrested for some Horrible Crime),  "Well, I'm not surprised, his mother was awful.  Spenser told me how she made him sit at the dinner table with her... who does that nowadays!?"



Interestingly enough, my mother never seemed to show signs of doubts in her mothering skills.  When she said "no", she meant "no."  When she said "you better pick up your shoes if you know what's good for you," you knew what was good for you and immediately picked up the shoes.  When she said she didn't care that all your friends were allowed to have boyfriends, she really didn't care.  Didn't seem to, at least.

For all the things that my mother may not be, there is a hell of a lot more to that what she is.
My mother, you see, is as close to perfection as it gets.  Of course, I didn't completely believe this, growing up, but, looking back, I'm pretty sure I'm right.

Despite the fact that we all knew she worshiped the ground my brother walked on, we still felt individually loved and appreciated.  Hearing her tell me the story of the fateful day she received a phone call from my foster home indicating that I was to be adopted by another Family assured me, with much confidence, that I was truly wanted and loved.

She was a Homeroom Mom, she made cupcakes for school functions, she bragged about my grades/parts in school plays/awards.  She took care of me when I was sick, and she didn't get overly ticked when I had forgotten my house keys for the second time in one week, two weeks running.  She had reasonable rules, and stuck by them.  She expected me to have respect for others, and to kiss and hug my relatives, even if they had hairy moles, or were really rather scary, or if they weren't even related.

She married my father at the age of 19, and, when the opportunity to move to Upstate New York was presented, she brought her elderly parents along for the ride.  Family was the most important thing in life, according to my mother, and it was something she instilled in us from birth-onward.  If there was an ailing relative somewhere, she was there.  When my uncle suffered a stroke, she moved him into our house.  She took care of my father through all of his health ups and downs.

She raised us with the ideals of of duty (oh boy), sacrifice, love, and non-judgment of others. She taught us to stand up for ourselves, and, as Christian as she is, told us, "if someone hits you, you hit them back twice as hard."

She endured countless trials during her lifetime. Growing up poor in a family with some debilitating handicaps.  Surviving the loss of all of her siblings.  Having a first born child with cerebral palsy when no one knew a whole lot about it.  Sitting at the bedside of her brother, her sister, my father, as they passed away.  She is the ultimate shoulder to lean on and the ear to cry into.

The amount of strength, patience, and courage she has shown me throughout her life can only be a source of inspiration, and a standard towards which we should all strive.  I can only hope that I can be half as good as she, and with a little luck, Spenser won't be setting any churches on fire any time soon.