Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

My mother is essentially a very private person.  She's been this way since she was a child for very good reasons.  To write about my love and admiration for my mother without disturbing her privacy will be hard, but out of respect for her; I'm going to do my best.

The details I can tell you about are related to me, I suppose.  She might be a bit upset with my choices, but she's likely to forgive me eventually.  So what else is new.  :D

To put almost fifty years of memories into one post is impossible.  It is also impossible to sum it all up in just one story, and a list of glories wouldn't even come close to doing her justice.

I love my mother because of how she raised me.  She raised me to be an independent thinker.  Unfortunately, this upbringing has come back to bite her in the butt.  I know this is an unexpected consequence that has frustrated her immensely over the years. 

Oh, that I could've been the "Preppy" daughter she dreamed of, but the world was too big and bold for simple "Preppy" fashions and beliefs; or at least, that's the way I saw it.  "Preppy" is a part of my fashion repertoire, but not the staple.  I did make a great "Preppy" one Halloween on Madison's State Street.  That was the best "Preppy" outfit I ever put together; white button-down shirt, straight-leg jeans, saddle shoes, hair pulled back in a pony-tail with perfectly curled bangs, and a white windbreaker with blue and red stripes on the ribbed collar and cuffs.  It was a tribute to Mom and all of her dreams for me; my nightmares.

She would've loved hearing my friends say, "Aren't you wearing a costume?" 

To which I replied, "I am!"

She would've been rolling her eyes and shaking her head just like they did.

One of the things I love about my mother is that she is "EveryMom."  When I talk to my friends, we all seem to end up talking about ways that our mothers drive us nuts.  We all know that we love and respect our mothers, BUT they drive us nuts.  She drives me nuts in some of the same ways that my friends' mothers drive them nuts.  She has provided a great bonding boulevard for me to follow.  She's not too bad.  She's not too good.  She's just right .... all of the time, if you ask her.  Just kidding, Mom.  Sort of.  :D

All teasing aside, mainly because she hates being teased; another reason I love my mom is because our relationship is constantly evolving.  As the years have progressed, we've changed together.  We still fight.  We still hug and kiss.  We still laugh together.  We still confide in each other.  We have just refined most of it. 

My language has become less refined over the years, but then again; so has hers!  The first time I heard my mom drop the "F-Bomb" in a casual, contemporary way; I nearly had a heart attack.  Seriously!  She laughed. 

I love my mom because she has a devilish side.  She likes to drive fast.  She really likes to drive fast. 

When my mom and dad were younger, they used to race home from Home Basketball games.  They had two cars because Dad would already be at school, and Mom and I would go to the game after we'd eaten something.  After the games, Mom and Dad would meet up somewhere in the gym, give each other a kiss, and decide on the race destination.  They would pick one destination to meet at before going home.  After agreeing on the mid-point destination, they would ask me who I wanted to ride with.  I usually picked Mom.  I knew she was fast and cunning.  We would take off from the high school with me in the back seat bouncing up and down cheering my driver on.  No, I was not wearing a seat belt.  Please.  One particularly good race had a gravel parking lot as a destination.  Mom blasted into it and skidded to a stop throwing up a cloud of dust.  She was so cool. 

Mom was so cool that we just used to hang out together all weekend in our pajamas.  That used to drive Dad nuts.  We didn't care.  We spent our weekend doing whatever we wanted; just the girls.  I don't remember what we talked about, but I do know we talked for hours.  I'm sure some of the subjects were fashion, politics, movies and movie stars, music, sports, and who knows what else.  Man, how we could talk.  It was so relaxing hanging out with my mom.  I loved it.  I loved our pajama weekends.

When I think back on all the years that I didn't talk to Mom either out of anger or ignorance, I love her to the point of tears because I know just a fraction of how much it hurt her and the toll it took on her.  I know because I'm a mom now, too.

Oh the many, many phone calls that started with, "I'm sorry."  The first time I called and said it, she was confused.

"What are you talking about?" she asked impatiently.

"Remember that time I told you that you were 'just a secretary' and how much it hurt you," I said, "Well, my daughter just told me that basically my job embarrasses her.  'Yeah, well, you're just a stupid Public Access Producer'."

"Oh," Mom said, "Yes.  That was mean of you."

"Yeah.  I'm sorry."

"Well, thank you.  your daughter's just being mean.  You can't take it personally.  I know it hurts, but you've got to show her that you're stronger than that.  You can't let her get away with things like that.  I didn't let you."

"No, you didn't, but you sure have waited a long time for an apology."

"I wasn't waiting, but thank you."

After that first call there were many, many, many more calls that started with the "I'm sorry" either because my daughter, my son or both brats had done something to hurt my feelings, and I didn't have a husband's shoulder to cry on.  Mom's "What did she do now" turned into "What did they do now."  Mom was my shoulder to cry on way back when and even today except I can't cry on her shoulder so much any more because I have to think of her health and what she can handle. 

Having just written that, I remember Mom saying the same thing about her mom.  My dear grandma drove her daughter nuts sometimes, too; but Mom loved her so much.  When the time came that Mom had to put Grandma's health before her own needs and desires, Mom turned to me.  That's when we really started getting close again.  That and when I became a mom.

I love my mom because as I look at the totality of human existence and the existence of women in particular, I am consoled that she and I are walking a path that is as old as time itself for the lucky.  We are a couple of cogs in the wheel of life.  We're a little damaged, but not so bad that we're completely dragging down the ship.  In fact, if you asked either of us on any given day; we'd gladly tell you how we've sacrificed for our families and solved most of the problems.  We're right.  We usually are.  We're mothers; mothers who love deeply and completely whether we like it or not.

Oh, and we're well aware that we drive each other nuts.  That doesn't stop us from loving each other.  This is why I love Mom.  She taught me the complexities of being a woman who raises her children to be able to think for themselves and make their own decisions even if the decisions are opposed to her own desires.  She gave me wings; so that, I might give my children wings.  We're still trying to figure out how to make the time and miles apart hurt a little less, but we love each other; so we'll just focus on that for now.  Besides, we both know that the distance can be conquered with a well-placed phone call. 

Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I have been posting most of my blog posts from my mom's laptop.  Mom recently called me to talk about a former friend's cinematography and to bust me for taking her laptop without asking her first.  You know the saying, "It's easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission"?  Well, we'll never know, now will we.  "Guilty as charged," was all I could say besides, "I'm sorry."  One of my co-conspirators narced.  He shall remain nameless, NOT - Dad.  My other co-conspirator filled me in on the details.  I was rolling. 

I really am very lucky to have a mom who's gone from "don't ever put anything in writing" to "would you just write it already."  We're constantly evolving.  Thank you, Mom.  I've written every day for over a month, now.  You've played a bigger part in it than you'll ever know.

I love you, Mom.  Happy Mother's Day today and every day.