Wednesday, April 07, 2004
My Mother
Yesterday was my mothers birthday, she turned 29 again, she was up and gone to work before I got up, she had left work by the time I got here, and she was sound asleep by the time I got home.
My mother was 23 years old when I was born, she had been married to my father for 4 years, and then proceeded to pop out two more children, my brother Daniel ( born exactly a year and two weeks after me) and Sean ( born 2 years after Daniel). By the time Sean arrived she had a 3 year old and a two year old running around and raising hell. She must have been absolutely nuts.
I gave my mom a really rough time when I was a teenager. The only two times I remember seeing my mother cry was when my grandfather died, I was eight, and when she found out I had been shoplifting, and she relate her own horrid experiences of being a teenager.
She went back to work when I was 12, selling life insurance, a very high-stressed job, it caused a big commotion in our household, my brothers and I suddenly having more responsibilities, and her temper flaring even quicker.
I have friends who would face a lion in the middle of the busiest street in New York, gladly, rather than cross paths with my mother when she is angry.
We fought constantly from the time I turned twelve, until I moved out when I was 17, then this strange thing happened, I started to call her, we had civilized, normal conversations, we related.
Then I got in my car accident, and my mom became my personal maid/nurse, and trust me I am not a good patient. She had to take care of me like I was three, helping me to get dressed, go to the bathroom, bathe, walk. It was a humiliating experience for me, and I hated losing my independence so I was anything but co-operative. She drove me to the doctor took me to see the physiotherapists, psychologists, and put up with my whining about moving my "purple leg".
My brother, Daniel has allergies to everything, which has lead my mother to firmly believe that Claritin is the "cure-all" for everything that ails you. When he broke his collarbone, we all thought Mom would yell at him for not taking his Claritin that morning.
My mom backs down from NO ONE, and she backs all of us up. I have done some pretty fucked up things in my life, and my mom knows everything. I would tell my Dad too, but he is happier not knowing. I can have an open and frank discussion with my Mom about just about anything, and I know she loves me regardless. That's pretty powerful stuff.
I take my parents for granted some times, then I get talking to some of my friends about their families and their experiences growing up, and I wish to God, I could go back and kick my 15 year old bitch self, in the ass.
Anyone who knows my mom be for-warned, don't fuck with her, cause she'll fuck you up.
Her laugh can cause a room full of people to turn their heads, her voice has caused a big stir in more than one church or auditorium. Her eyebrow can raise fear in any child. Her taste in clothes could use a major boost ( Grandma and I have been trying to guide her away from mixing purple and orange, icky). Her temper is quick, her bark is usually worse than the bite. She has great wit, a sharp tongue, she hates when I swear. She is madly in love with my father, who absolutely adores her. The two cannot spend more than 2 weeks apart and they start bumping into walls. She detests when I call her MA (which I do often to tease her), she says it makes her sound like an old granny. She is my Mom, she has been there for me anytime I needed her, and even when I tried to convince myself I didn't. I truly cannot thank her enough.
I love you! I love you! I love you!
My mother was 23 years old when I was born, she had been married to my father for 4 years, and then proceeded to pop out two more children, my brother Daniel ( born exactly a year and two weeks after me) and Sean ( born 2 years after Daniel). By the time Sean arrived she had a 3 year old and a two year old running around and raising hell. She must have been absolutely nuts.
I gave my mom a really rough time when I was a teenager. The only two times I remember seeing my mother cry was when my grandfather died, I was eight, and when she found out I had been shoplifting, and she relate her own horrid experiences of being a teenager.
She went back to work when I was 12, selling life insurance, a very high-stressed job, it caused a big commotion in our household, my brothers and I suddenly having more responsibilities, and her temper flaring even quicker.
I have friends who would face a lion in the middle of the busiest street in New York, gladly, rather than cross paths with my mother when she is angry.
We fought constantly from the time I turned twelve, until I moved out when I was 17, then this strange thing happened, I started to call her, we had civilized, normal conversations, we related.
Then I got in my car accident, and my mom became my personal maid/nurse, and trust me I am not a good patient. She had to take care of me like I was three, helping me to get dressed, go to the bathroom, bathe, walk. It was a humiliating experience for me, and I hated losing my independence so I was anything but co-operative. She drove me to the doctor took me to see the physiotherapists, psychologists, and put up with my whining about moving my "purple leg".
My brother, Daniel has allergies to everything, which has lead my mother to firmly believe that Claritin is the "cure-all" for everything that ails you. When he broke his collarbone, we all thought Mom would yell at him for not taking his Claritin that morning.
My mom backs down from NO ONE, and she backs all of us up. I have done some pretty fucked up things in my life, and my mom knows everything. I would tell my Dad too, but he is happier not knowing. I can have an open and frank discussion with my Mom about just about anything, and I know she loves me regardless. That's pretty powerful stuff.
I take my parents for granted some times, then I get talking to some of my friends about their families and their experiences growing up, and I wish to God, I could go back and kick my 15 year old bitch self, in the ass.
Anyone who knows my mom be for-warned, don't fuck with her, cause she'll fuck you up.
Her laugh can cause a room full of people to turn their heads, her voice has caused a big stir in more than one church or auditorium. Her eyebrow can raise fear in any child. Her taste in clothes could use a major boost ( Grandma and I have been trying to guide her away from mixing purple and orange, icky). Her temper is quick, her bark is usually worse than the bite. She has great wit, a sharp tongue, she hates when I swear. She is madly in love with my father, who absolutely adores her. The two cannot spend more than 2 weeks apart and they start bumping into walls. She detests when I call her MA (which I do often to tease her), she says it makes her sound like an old granny. She is my Mom, she has been there for me anytime I needed her, and even when I tried to convince myself I didn't. I truly cannot thank her enough.
I love you! I love you! I love you!
