It has come to my attention that I recently wrote a post that was primarily about my father and not my mother. So this one is for the lady I call when I am happy, sad, excited, bored, in need of advice or recipes, or just any old reason at all.
My favorite story about my mom is also the story she wishes I would forget. It involves her getting mad at me and a recipe box. But I guess since this is her post I won't go there.
Some of the most meaningful memories with my mom are moments that she might not even remember:
A late-night dance party in the kitchen to oldies music on the day I returned from a NYC trip.
Helping me learn how to make bread. Over and over and over. (We finally realized that I was adding too much flour.)
Making jam and canning tomatoes, corn, meat, and applesauce. (They make it look WAY easier than it really is.)
Watching her help and love her mother, who has Alzheimer's and other health issues.
Some events were kind of huge. Like when Ammon was born and I called her in the middle of the night crying, and she flew out the next day to take care of me and my family (I'm pretty sure she won't forget that one).
Some advice she has given has guided me and lifted me up through the years. Like:
- The time after Logan was born and I was adjusting to being a mother and (please tell me I'm not the only one) no longer having the freedom I/we had previously enjoyed. I don't know what I said to her on the phone (surely I was more subtle?), but she said something like, "Sometimes you wonder why you were in such a huge rush have a baby, and you miss the time you had before you were a mom." I felt such a HUGE relief to know I wasn't alone, and I said something like, "Oh! So you feel that way, too?" She laughed and said, "Oh no honey, I've gotten over that. I've been a mom for a long time." Now I know exactly what she was talking about! Somewhere you just start becoming less selfish and more selfless without even realizing that you are changing in such a wonderful way.
- The time I was pregnant with Grant and had two toddlers ages 3 and 2. I couldn't figure out how in the world I was going to take care of another child when I felt like I was struggling to "control" the other two. I don't know if I ever said anything, but her motherly instincts must have kicked in. She sent me a card with a handwritten message. I don't know everything it said, but I remember this part: "I'd like to tell you it gets easier, but really it doesn't. They will get older and less needy, but their independence will be both a blessing and a curse." Not exactly uplifting advice, but exactly what I needed to hear.
- The time that Joe was in TX for the summer and I was playing single mom. There was A LOT of stress--trying to show/sell a house, trying to find work, trying to finish my online classes, and trying to do it all by myself. My parents stopped by to visit for some reason, and asked exactly the wrong (or right) question. I lost it and bawled my head off to them about how overwhelmed I was. They listened and hugged me and told me to drive to their house the next day so that they could help. On their way out the door my dad told my mom to give me gas money so that I wouldn't have any excuse not to go. My mom gave me a $100 bill and told me to "keep the change." I still have that $100 bill and every once in a while I pull it out. . . I don't know if it is to remind me, or for the next time I feel like I just can't do it, or maybe even for some opportunity to help someone else in need. But it has become a symbol of hope and love that helped me to overcome a challenge that felt quite overwhelming.
Mostly my mom was/is really patient with me. She is always calm and never loses her temper, and sometimes I just wanted to make her mad (which is partly why I love my favorite story that I'm not telling). For example, when I turned 18 I told her I was going to buy something just so I could show my i.d. I was really trying to rile her up. She just looked at me and said, "Well, I guess you can spend your money however you'd like." Not what I wanted to hear, and I didn't carry through with that plan. (I did go and get my ears pierced a second time on my 18th birthday, which I knew she was not a fan of but didn't stop me because I was an "adult." And then I took them out the next year when President Hinckley said we didn't need more than one piercing, but that's another story for another day.)
So basically, I'm doomed. When my kids are obnoxious and crazy and in 10 (5? 2?) years trying to make me mad. . . well, we already know that the calm gene didn't get passed down to me. But I had a really good example, and even if I'm not always as patient and nice--hopefully we are making enough good memories that someday my own children will be calling me to laugh and cry, or maybe just to talk.
