Posted in Conversation Time, Uncategorized

Conversation Time #4

This week’s Question:

What memories do you have of your mother (her name, birth date, birthplace, parents, and so on)?

She’s still alive, so I’m not giving most of that away, either.

My mother is my best friend and always has been. I could never lie to her, she could see straight through me. I learned that pretty early on. It just meant I stopped bothering to try to lie to her. I told her everything and still do. She’s one of the few people in the world I can be honest with and her opinion of me won’t change because of it. I walk around with her face and freak people out (that’s a lot of fun), and we always know exactly what the other is thinking, because we’re pretty close to the same there, too! I’m always surprised when I can do something she doesn’t know how to, and just like Dad lets me talk him into some new form of geekery, Mom lets me talk her into new forms of craftery!

Mom stayed home with us until I was in third grade. She stood at the bus stop with us if she didn’t take us to school, herself. She picked me up from Kindergarten, because it was a half day. When I sent a kid to the hospital for bullying me, she didn’t scream at me! She nodded and let it go! She taught me how to scrub baseboards with a toothbrush for inspections and drove us home to Georgia when we moved back from Louisiana. When she went back to work, she trusted me to be the one with my head screwed on straight. I was the one with the key to the house in my backpack so we could get in after school every day. She taught me to cross stitch when I was eight and to crochet when I was twelve. I taught myself to sew, mostly because I watched her do it for most of my life. She made our clothes and Halloween costumes until work took her time away for that stuff! She crocheted afghans for our beds and was one of the three mom’s in our neighborhood yelling, “Time for Thundercats” while we were on base housing. She would shake her head and let me get away with reducing a chicken leg to scattered shreds of chicken instead of eating it and made me sit at the table for hours until I’d finished my steak. I forced down a fork full of collards and black eyed peas every New Years from birth because she got that “mom look” on her face and I wasn’t going to be the reason we didn’t have money that year!

When I was in High School, she was constantly supporting her overachieving geek of a kid through whatever endeavor she’d thrown herself in. She advocated to get me a better car because I had to be at school so early or so late doing everything from Band to Student Government and life would be easier if I had the means to get myself (and my poor sister) there without waiting for them to get off work or make them late for work taking us. She was at every game, football and basketball, cheering from the sidelines while I did my thing and working her tail off every other minute. She sent me to school with a bucket full of change because the band director told us to “Save our pennies” for a trip to Myrtle Beach that Spring. She could’ve taken it to the bank and exchanged it for paper money, but what fun would that be? It earned her a smirk from Mr. Macleod and then he made me count it all and take it to the bank for a deposit! Everyone loved my mom, too. She was the Band Mom everyone wished was theirs. She was supportive and overlooked silly stuff while still keeping her eye out for stuff we shouldn’t be doing. She was genuinely happy for everyone she adopted as her own, which was almost every member of a 100+ piece marching band. She cheered for them, cried with them, helped them get dressed and french braided their hair (She learned to do that so my hair would stay out of my face while I marched, people!).

In college, it was Mom who did most of my laundry because I fell asleep on the couch waiting for the drier and she didn’t have the heart to wake me up. It was Mom who told me to bring the poor screaming kitten that was under my apartment to her house and she’d take care of it. It was mom who brought a kitten into my apartment to keep me company. It was Mom who sighed with relief when I broke up with my boyfriend and groaned when I started dating another 300 miles away via the internet. It was Mom who was upset when I moved out and didn’t talk to me for a week because it was just too painful that I wasn’t at home where I should be. It was Mom who stocked my cabinets that first month, because “Everyone should have butter and ketchup, Tiffany.”

After college… she knew exactly which wedding dress I would fall in love with the second she laid eyes on it. She planned my wedding and reception and made it look EASY. She was there holding my hand when I signed myself into the hospital for my first C-section, and refusing to let Dad drive as she sped down I16 for the second one, fear for both me and my little Tadpole and tears at not being there earlier streaming from her eyes. When Peanut developed acid reflux and I hadn’t slept in three days? Mom was on the way and stayed with us for a week while I rested and still handled feedings and diapers and, now, medication. After each baby was born, she was there for two full weeks while we settled into life with a newborn! When I broke my ankle, she drove down to drive the girls to school because I couldn’t drive my car and Dana couldn’t be THAT late so often. She’s the one who changed the ice on my ankle after surgery and woke me up for meds. Who else but Mom does that?

Everyone wants their Mom when times get tough, but I can honestly say that I have the mom that EVERYONE wants when times get tough. I have loaned her out quite a few times to people who needed that support in their lives. She’s a great mom, whether she gave birth to you or not!

And now? Now she’s in the SCA, too. Know what? I’m still loaning her out. People still love her. I’m the envy of so many because my mom is the one I can call and don’t even have to ask if I can leave my girls with her while I handle disaster at home (Hurricanes, people. DISASTER!). She’s angry because she can’t help me more. Yeah, you read that right! She says events are different if I’m not around and enjoys them more when I am, even if I’m dragging her around because I can’t sit still. People who live closer have adopted her as theirs, too. So much so that I’m never sure which of the people on her friends list are now my family and which ones are still in the friend zone! And once you’re adopted, she’s got you! You’re screwed thinking you’ll get away with doing stupid stuff like forgetting to eat or not drinking enough water. If you have a baby, you better NOT get anywhere near her without letting her hold it for at least an hour while you go away and do whatever you need to do! She is the perfect grandmother, letting nothing get in between her and time with my monsters, and she accepts their quirky little selves, too.

Because that’s the way she is.

And she’s mine.

And yours.

And yours.

And yeah, yours, too.

But I want her back, got it?

Until next time!

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Author:

Teacher, Mother, Wife, Reeve, Fighter, Apprentice, Protege, Writer, Reader, Track Director... I do it all, people!

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