The Mother's Day entry

Today is the day that Hallmark tells us to say hello to Mom, to stop and say thanks for all the hard work, all the advice, all the guidance; thanks for all the late nights cleaning up after us when we were sick; thanks for driving us here and there.

My mom did all of those things.

But all day I have been trying to think of special moments between me and Mom.

One of the first was when I was approximately 8. I came home from school and discovered that Mom had restyled her hair that day while I was gone. Her hair was permed up and distinctly different than what it had previously been. I reacted with something like horror and broke down crying right there in the kitchen. Why? I really don't remember, but I would like to officially apologize for my crass behavior.

Another memory I have is one summer day when I guess I was around 8 or 10. I was upset that day about having to wear my imobilizer orthopedic devices on my legs. (They kept my knees straight, giving me a slightly Frankensteinish walk; they were all straps and looked kind of like the outfit that Mila Jovovich work throughout most of The Fifth Element.) But, I was in a bad mood about wearing these things and was being generally hard on myself, working on a very good persecution complex. Mom was very patient (moreso that I might be with my kids, sometimes) and talked me calmly through my anger and frustration. I don't really remember a lot of what she said, but I know it helped me feel better that day.

I remember Mom fixing hot bowls of chili on Friday nights in the fall, after a football game at the high school. Even though the chili had spaghetti in it, it warmed me up. I remember the many birthday cakes (and sometimes--by request birthday pies) that she made for me each year. For some reason I have a very clear memory right now of a white-frosted cake with a clown face as decoration. I believe that year my party was held at Fulwood Park.

I remember once on a Saturday morning when I wanted to fix myself an omelet. Mom showed me how to get the eggs started in the pan while I cut onions, green peppers, shredded some cheese. I sprinkled all of those ingredients in the pan and tried to flip the eggs over to create that omelet shape. However, I had overloaded the pan with too many ingredients and rushed the flipping before the eggs had set in the middle. I asked Mom for help and I guess she forgot what I had been trying to do, because she scrambled it all up before realizing that it was originally supposed to be an omelet. She was very sorry; I thought it was funny, and it tasted just as good in the end.

I thought of Mom today while in church. The choir was singing a song that probably was on the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack (or should have been). But one member of the choir, a lady in her forties or fifties was bouncing on her heels, swaying in time with the music, clearly enjoying her role in singing that song. I can think of many times I have seen my Mom do the same thing, bouncing in time with the music, singing along, being deeply affected by song. Much of my faith and religion come from her dedication to God, to our hometown church, to the ideals of Christianity.

There are many more memories of Mom that I won't be able to remember right now, but will occur to me before the day is over. Mom is one of the most important women in my life and the one woman who is most responsible for me being the person that I am today.

So, thanks for everything Mom--for all your advice, for being who you are and letting me be who I am, for all the love to me, to my two girls. I appreciate you more than these words can adequately say.