Tag Archives: mothers day

1 Comment

They call us mama, mommy, mother and then probably on occasion, a less sweet name muttered under their displeased kid breath. But probably our most known name is Mom. Within those three letters we embody countless other names. Some of these names make us swell with pride; others resemble the us that imperfectly loves, day in and day out, the best way we know how.

moma

M.O.M.

Maker of Meatloaf-

We know that meatloaf isn't all that pretty. We also know that any entrée connected to the word "loaf" usually doesn't set your mouth to watering. But we try. There is effort and there's love in the meatloafs and casseroles that we dutifully make for you when we'd usually rather be eating Mexican food with a nice waitress who keeps our glass full. We cook for you. Some of us are great at it and some of us even enjoy it. But I guarantee there are countless nights we cook because simply because that's what moms do.

Meddler of Media-

We're nosy, us moms. We care about what you're doing. So we stalk you. We look on your Facebook or Instagram to see what you've been up to. We want to know who your friends are. We read your hashtags making sure you stay away from the inappropriate. Sometimes we check your phone or your playlist on your ipod. You probably call it meddling. We call it monitoring. Either way, I promise it's done in love.

Manager of Mess-

This is probably one of your least favorite jobs of ours. Trust me. It's one of our least favorite jobs. We really don't enjoy sweeping or cleaning toilets that much. And believe or not, it's probably even harder to enlist you in helping out with the unnumbered list of chores. You often have to be asked more than once to pick up the shoes in the basket at the bottom of the stairs. And when you do pick them up, they're often thrown haphazardly into the wrong closets. Still we clean. And we train you to clean with the hope that you'll be a capable mom or dad yourself someday.

Mender of Maladies-

We hate it when you're sick, but I actually think this is one of the jobs we excel best at. When you have an awful stomach virus, we keep you hydrated. But in addition to that, we get your favorite blanket and help keep you comfortable. We get sick at heart when you're sick. We check your temperature umpteen times believing that if we keep taking it, your fever will go down. We swipe the hair off of your forehead and are at your side often before you can call out our name.

Mover of Mountains-

Moms move mountains. We figure out how you can make it to two important events at the same time. We buy a last-minute swimsuit when you find upon getting ready that last year's swimsuit won't fit anymore. I still remember the peach and brown swimsuit my mom bought me at Bill's Dollar Store on the way to a friend's party. I don't think I appreciated it as much then as I do looking back.

Maker of Molehills-

We show up in a big way in times of panic. But we're also good at freaking out about that dime-size ketchup stain on your new white shirt or the way your binder looks with its papers busting out in fifty directions with crumpled, bent edges.

r3dPp_uwsWQ5HD3JLFu6mQpUYva_Bpf-BzRTJNh-3ZU

Magnifier of Merits-

We know your good qualities. We know that you have a special handshake with the kid that many other kids ignore. In our eyes, you're the kindest kid that was ever created. We see how you have an uncanny ability to make people smile and we're flabbergasted when anybody (besides us) has the gall to not be endeared to you.

Manipulator, or (as I like to call it) Motivator

Though we see your good deeds and brilliant talents, we have an eye for teachable moments. Like the time you're at a ballgame and you have a whole handful of Airheads and you don't seem to notice the kid beside you eyeing your sweets. We mention that you "might" want to share. When you reveal that "actually you're not really into sharing at the moment", we often remind you of several good reasons that you really do want to share your Airheads candy. When you get older you'll ask why we don't' just tell you to share the Airheads instead of giving you the choice (……..but really not giving you the choice). You'll say that we manipulate you to do things we think you should do. We like to call it motivation.

Memorizer of Moments-

We tell everybody funny stories like how you "asked if we could pray first" that time you knew you were in trouble for your misbehavior at church.  We remember how, at five, you held up spinach leaves pierced by your fork and said in your tone, disapproving of the salad, "What kind of sick joke is this?"  We remember small moments, and moments big enough that the memory lodges our throats and clenches tight our hearts. -Like the time you spent a week in the hospital with RSV and pneumonia and the moment the doctor said "She's not out of the woods". We remember your first fist fight too.  But it's funny.  The moments are remembered, but how we look back on them sometimes changes.

mom2

Murmurer of Melodies-

You may not remember, but we sang to you when you were small enough to be curled up in our arms. When you were a bit older we sang "You'll be in my Heart" alongside when you were still enough to watch Tarzan. You may not know it, but we still sing over you. You may not hear it. Our melody may be but a murmer, but you still make us sing.

We could go on endlessly. We're the

Manual of Manners

Mapper of Missions........

 

We are M.O.M.

What does M.O.M. stand for to you?

 

 

2 Comments

Yes she thought that burgundy corduroy blazer with matching pants that she made you wear was cute.

She also really thought that school picture, the one where your teeth were almost as big as your head, was adorable. -Even more so as you have grown

She did cherish each paper that you brought home with your name on it-even the ones she stuffed deep down into the trash bag.

She really wanted to be your friend, but knew that you needed her to be your mother even more.

She really can smell vomit, even if she seems immune to its smell.

She had bad hair days, and days with no make-up, not because she didn't care what she looked like, but because she put your needs first.

She didn't always enjoy cooking, and she never enjoyed scrubbing toilets.

There were times that she let your room be messy or ignored that eye-roll and let you think you got away with it.

She never felt so much rage toward a person until you came along and someone did you wrong.

She never felt so much fear as the times she's had to let you go somewhere; without her there by your side.

Maybe, most importantly, she's never felt so much joy as the first time she held you, the first time you said "ma-ma" or the the time you gave your heart to Jesus.

She really cared more about how you were doing in school than she did about your grades.

Every contest you entered, she thought you should have won- even if she didn't tell you so.

She didn't care much for Mazzios pizza or watching Pippy Longstockings.

Your clothes didn't just "come clean" in the wash; she sometimes had to scrub them.

She never dreamed of being a taxi cab driver, but she didn't mind being yours.

She knew money didn't grow on trees, but sometimes she spent it on you selflessly for something she wanted you to have.

She hasn't shared EVERY embarrassing story about you.

Grounding you and sticking to it was not easy; spanking you wasn't either.

She's MORE proud of you than she lets you know; most of the time she's letting other people how proud she is of you.

Even though it seemed sometimes she wasn't listening, there were ten times those times that she was thinking only of you.

Even when you asked her to watch you do some cool trick, but she seemed distant, you must know that you were never NOT on her mind.

She cried tears for you that you never saw, smiled smiles too, prayed prayers on your behalf that you never heard, and felt butterflies too when you were doing something "big" like performing or driving or taking a big test.

Maybe she hasn't told you, but she wants you to know- that it's YOU, not any homemade or expensive present, that she counts as her greatest gift.  And every day, not just Mother's Day, she counts it a blessing to call herself your mother.

 

For my mom, Gaye Fowler

Happy Mother's Day

and Happy Birthday May 14

Love you!