As a kid growing up, I always wondered why mom slept late. She would stay up reading, and then sleep until at least 9 the next morning. My dad was always the one that got us up and ready for school. He liked (and still likes) to get up with the chickens. Later, as teenagers, it was our responsibility to get ourselves motivated, but he was always there to cattle prod us if necessary. It was rare to see her on a school day, unless my dad was out of town. And if we were foolish enough to wake her, well...let's just say it wasn't going to be a very good day for anyone.
As an adult, I *completely* understand. Having three children of my own, two of whom are older, and one very young, I really do comprehend how tired she must have been. While Dave and I were in school, she was home with my baby brother all day long. The only time she would have had for herself would have been if she were up late at night reading while we were sleeping. She wisely understood that having time for herself absolutely made her a better (and saner) mother.
We also understood that you didn't speak to her until after she had her first cup of coffee. Otherwise you risked tangling with "momma bear".
I, personally, didn't even start drinking coffee until after I had Kayla. Having a newborn, this very tiny dependent infant, changes everything. Sleep, and most everything else...became a luxury. It's been 14.5 years since I have had a decent night sleep. The only way to combat days and days (and sometimes MONTHS) of a lack of something so vital was caffeine. GREAT BIG POTS of go-go juice. Ultimately, you become dependent upon the caffeine, because you now have super-human-mom powers and caffeine is the only thing that keeps that going. You are able to prop your young child on your hip, while simultaneously paying bills, sorting and laundering clothes, getting yourself ready for work, vacuuming, mopping, sweeping, washing dishes, dusting, cleaning blinds, making breakfast, lunch & dinner, attending t-ball games, shopping for the family, weeding the flowerbeds, negotiating a truce between fighting siblings, and the list goes on. (and on and on and on)
I often wondered why we weren't allowed much in the way of candy or cokes as children. It seemed unfair, when we would see our friends with candy bars, chewing gum, tic-tacs, gob-stoppers and Dr. Pepper (in the house, no less). For Christmas, "Santa" would bring us a case of our favorite pop (Coke for you southerners) and a box of our favorite normally forbidden sugary cereal. And we were *very* happy to get it. You have no idea. It was almost better than getting the coveted Barbie, Star Wars action figure, or ridiculously expensive article of clothing we had to have.
[Best.Christmases.Ever]
The reason we didn't have much sugar...is that it made me and Dave *crazy*. Spinning around like the Tasmanian devil crazy.
She would watch her seemingly "normal" acting children turn into drooling, knuckle dragging, agitated, maniacally crazed creatures hell bent on destruction. The worst fights he and I ever got into, and the craziest, "nearly got ourselves killed but seemed like a good idea at the time" ideas we had, I have no doubt could be traced to the ingestion of great quantities of sugar. As my dad was working, and she was the one at home with us, I now clearly see her reasoning.
Recently, at Easter, Cole ate a fair amount of candy before I was able to take it away from him and get breakfast served. He was so out of control all day long, I wanted to put him in a cage...or find some way to medicate him. I am not even kidding. He took crayons and colored on the majority of the walls in the hallway (freshly painted...I might add), and colored on my new hardwood flooring. This was just the beginning of a very long day.
[The Easter bunny is *dumb* to have brought a 3 year old hopped up on candy a game that has mallets!]
Even my brother Nathan commented, after watching Cole spin around crazily for what seemed hours, that this was reason number 537 that he wasn't ready to have kids. I told him that it was different when they were your own. How I said that with a straight face, I have no idea. ;)
I remember a time when I was about 19, that I came home from school or work, started getting ready to go out and went to go look in the dryer for a favorite shirt to wear that night. Hmm...nothing in the dryer. I looked everywhere and couldn't find any of the clothes that I thought were left in there. She was always getting on to me about removing my things from the washer and dryer. Couldn't I hear the buzzer? She had been asking me, since the age of 11, to please, please handle my laundry. Other people needed to use the washer or dryer. yeah yeah. So, I went to ask her if she had seen my clothes. She told me that, indeed...she had. They were in the backyard. (My nostrils flared.)
It was March in Lindenhurst, Il, and they had recently built a new house. A deck had not yet been built off of the kitchen, and there was also no grass, sod, or even weeds. It was just a large mud pit with lots of potential. In this mud pit, lay all of the clothes that I had forgotten, not only in the dryer, but in the washer. I was furious. How could she do that???? WHY would she do that? Was she crazy?
She replied to me very calmly, (in a way that sort of scared me) that she had told me over and over and over again, to get my things out of the washer and dryer, that they weren't for my exclusive use. She was very sick and tired of asking, pleading and yelling at me to handle this. She felt that this might be the best way to get my attention. (oh, she had it alright). Maybe it was the smirk on her face that led me to believe this, but I think she felt good about what she had done. It was probably cathartic.
I can see her now, with my clothes in hand, standing at the sliding glass doors of the kitchen slinging each piece out into the rain and mud. I smile at this memory now, because I know (now) exactly how she must have felt then. I did learn my lesson, for what it's worth. Never again did I leave my laundry unattended in the washer or dryer. Sometimes I find myself, at my wits end, doing the same things with the girls shoes that I trip over constantly. Can't find them? You might want to look in the backyard. (smirk)
As children, you take your mom for granted. It really isn't until you have your own children that you realize out how much she loved you, how much she had sacrificed for you, how she must have worried about you, how much time and energy went into caring for you, and how fiercely protective she was of you and how much it must have hurt when you were awful to her, or treated her with indifference. Despite the things I didn't understand about her, there were some things that even as a child, I very much appreciated.
For one thing, she went to all of my games. Every single one. Whether it rained, was unbearably hot, bitterly cold or they were far away, she was there cheering me on. She went to all of my band concerts and told me how great I was through my many hours of those early years of practice, when listening to cats in heat would have been a better option. She was my girl scout leader, and helped us to obtain our badges by teaching us how to cook, camp, sew (lol), learn music, study citizenship, and perform numerous charitable acts. These things took up a lot of her time, and I imagine it had to have been sometimes exhausting dealing with a dozen hormonally challenged, dramatic young girls. To this day, I don't know how she did it. I know I couldn't have done it.
With the birth of each of my children, she dropped everything to come and stay with me to help take care of them. She gave me time to recover, and in the process (especially with Kayla) taught me what I needed to know in how to get a baby on a feeding schedule, how to change them, and bathe them, multiple burping techniques, and much more. Those things that you can read in a book, but are meaningless until experienced. Even after I had Cole, and she was already very sick and rarely drove anymore, she somehow managed to drive over to hold him for a few hours, so that I could nap. That's dedication right there.
[Mom with Kayla]
[Mom with Katie]
[Mom with Kayla, Katie & Cole]
Although she isn't physically here with us anymore, in so many ways she is. All that I have learned from her, and hand down to the grandchildren she so adored, is her legacy. I know that she is looking down upon us and smiling at all that she has accomplished.
Happy Mother's Day!
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