Motherly Advice

My mother's concern that my clothing might reflect poorly on her, in the event of an emergency, was amusing to an eighteen year old. I promised her that I would always wear clean underwear.

I did.

But we never discussed going commando. 

Advice

I can't remember ever getting any advice from my mother. 

My mother just didn't talk to me that much when I was growing up.  Back then, there were no shortcuts.  As the hausfrau, my mom had stuff to do, like wash our clothes, clean the house, and cook dinners.   There was no time for idle chit chat. 

My mother always seemed completely discombobulated by me, like she had no idea what to do or say as a parent.  To be fair, I was weird, but still.  I was  emotional . I would tantrum, I would cry, I would need a hug. I had actual feelings, and that completely freaked my mother out.  

Other mothers were huggers, and I was a little jealous of those kids. My mother didn't hug unless I asked for it, and seemed ill at ease during the whole event.  I felt a bit cheated. Never mind that I am tactile defensive and don't like to be touched--Moms are supposed to hug! 

Moms are supposed to teach you how to cook--my mother banned me from the kitchen.  Moms are supposed to sew cute little outfits for their daughters--my mom made me wear hand me downs from the neighbors that were several years out of date.  Moms are supposed to play with their children as much as possible--my mom spent hours on the couch reading every book on the planet. Moms are supposed to dispense lots of sage advice, wisdom to get through the trials of life.

And yet I learned a lot from my mother.

My mom taught me to accept the things that I cannot change, like the humiliation of dayglo orange polyester pants, and to walk like I knew what I was doing, even if I didn't.  She taught me that being on my own was not the traumatic event it seemed.  My mom taught me to stand on my own two feet.  She taught me that I didn't need a man around to make things happen. She taught me to think for myself, and to accept the consequences of my choices.

My mom taught me those things all without saying a word.  Because sometimes the less said, the better.  I understand that more and more as I try and be a parent myself.

Also, that annoying habit of rolling my eyes when my husband says something that is completely silly?  I get that from her, too. 






2.) Advice your mother gave you.

First Love

The first time I saw

love--

it was in

one small hand,

with

a firm grasp,

held fast

in mine.

That bright smile,

that sweet face,

that trust.

Who could not

feel blessed with

such a rare gift?




The prompt is 33 words plus this: "The first time I saw..."

The first time I saw. . .

The first time I saw. . .

The Story of My Birth.

I don't really know much about the story of my birth. My mother hasn't exactly volunteered information.  She's of German stock, and a farmer's daughter, and she is just not the chatty sort.  She could actually be a Russian spy, and I would have no clue. (Welcome to my friends from Homeland Security and the NSA who are just now joining us! Hi!)  My mom is so tight-lipped about some things that I used to make up stuff, or borrow the moms from the books I read.  When I read Little Women, I even started calling her "Marmee", just to see if I could get her to crack.  It was close, but my mom is tougher than that.

Occasionally my brother and I asked my mom questions about her life and what she did as a kid, but then she would just go off on some sort of tangent about how good WE had it, how she had to work the fields picking strawberries in the summer.  And how she was grateful for that ten cents per pint!  There's only so many times a kid can hear that story before they stop listening or start mimicking their parent, and that just leads to tears all around.  So we stopped asking, and my mother was just fine with that.  She had a house to clean, and the soaps to watch.

My brother and I did discover that if we wanted some entertainment, we could get my parents to argue by asking my dad how long my mom was in labor.  My father, not always attentive to his surroundings, has a tendency to minimize everything.  "It's just a scratch," is an oft-repeated sentence around here.  Men, here's a tip: do NOT minimize or trivialize the labor.  Do not wave your hand and say "Meh, it was just a couple of hours!"   That is a good way to get any mother very angry in a hurry.

I have picked up a few tidbits of information about my birth over the years. I pay attention, mostly when my mom is talking to someone else, and I have a great auditory memory.  Here's what I have gleaned over the years:

• I was likely conceived during the honeymoon, because I was born two days short of 9 months.  (Before you make that mental leap, let me say that my parents appear to be more Catholic than the Pope. Plus, there were nuns all over the family tree, and they were all attending the wedding in full nun regalia. So no premarital funny business!)
• I was born in El Paso, Texas at William Beaumont Army Hospital, where my dad worked. 
• My mother has admitted during interrogation that while she was pregnant with me, cucumbers made her hurl.  (I love cucumbers. Weird.)  
• I was born butt first, and that it took awhile before I would lay flat on my back without my legs rising.  I found that particular tidbit illuminating; no wonder I could never do the splits! 
• My mother did not have an epidural or any anesthesia during my arrival, because I came too fast.  

Those last two factors are why my mother has been in a perpetual bad mood for my entire life.  I can't say that I blame her.  It must have been quite painful to bring me into the world, and it certainly hasn't been easy to raise me.  Although I think that she should have been happy that I only weighed six pounds. 

5 Nevers

Mamakat's prompt: 5 things you should never say to (any) mother.


Five things?  Just five?   My father was a minefield; my brother and I had to gauge his mood before uttering anything beyond "Hi,"  and if he was in a mood, we could find ourselves grounded for breathing too heavily.  My  mother, not so much with the drama.  If she was irritated, she might purse her lips disapprovingly, but usually wouldn't say a word.   There aren't really five things that I would never say to my own mother, then.  Unfortunately for all concerned, I did not inherit my mother's calm and easygoing demeanor.  My son will just have to deal with that.  I'm nothing if not helpful, however.  I'm providing some of the sentences most likely to cause me such consternation that I would probably consider crying or other behaviors likely to embarrass him in public.  Consider yourself warned, my child.


"This tastes horrible."  If I grab something right out of the freezer and microwave it for you, that's one thing.  You can say whatever that was tasted horrible, and I'll likely agree with you.  I myself have had several tasteless, paper-like entrees over the years.  However, if I went to the trouble to actually gather ingredients and read a recipe to make a meal for someone, they had better tell me how wonderful it is and what a great cook I am.  That is just plain good manners.  Even if what I've cooked is actually horrible, I had better hear the appropriate compliments. I want to see at least half of that plate cleaned off.  If family members eat seconds, then that just scores bonus points in the Book of Mom, points that can be redeemed later, such as when a child has broken the remote for the TV or forgets my birthday.

"Shut up."  Just don't.  Don't ever say these words to any mom.  It's disrespectful, for one thing.  This is a BIG RED BUTTON for me, and will always make me very angry.  And in all the years I've lived, I have never heard this statement result in the requested behavior.  I know that when I've heard those words, I am not inclined to follow directions.  In fact, when I've been told to "shut up", that is the very last thing that I do.  If you want a person to stop talking, there are politer things to say that are less likely to make me see red.  Say "Be quiet," or an equivalent phrase.  There's already too much rudeness in the world, and changing that starts with small things, like not telling your mother to pipe down. 

"Mama, you've got a big butt."   Yes, my child actually said that to me.  Yes, he is still living.  I had a momentary urge to burst into tears, but I stifled it and I explained that what he said was not polite.  "Okay, Mama"  my child said, which means that he didn't hear a word that I said.  It's not that I don't know that I have weight issues, because I do.  I know that the astronauts can see me from space when I am wearing a bathing suit.   It's that telling anyone that they are fat, if you are not their doctor, is just rude.  Even if it is a true statement, there's no reason to be deliberately cruel like that.  Being polite means overlooking the small flaws that we all have in the interest of showing compassion and care.  And compassion begins in the home.

"I ate all the chocolate."  If you want to reduce a grown woman to tears, say this to her when she has had a horrible day.  It doesn't matter who you are, we all occasionally need a piece of chocolate on occasion.  Most of us have a special stash, hidden behind the unused gravy boat in the cupboard, that we run to when we need a metaphysical hug or two.  Or three(see above, about the big butt).  Chocolate is comfort food, releasing a flood of chemicals that restores a measure of sanity, if only for the briefest of moments.  Unfortunately, children are agile climbers, and they happen to enjoy chocolate, too.  So if there is no chocolate left in the house, don't tell me.  Just quietly go out and purchase more. 

"Daddy said that I could."   If I tell a person that they can't do something, and they do it anyway, it annoys me. If I tell my child that they can't do or have something, and they go ask Daddy because they know that Daddy will say yes, there will be blood.  If Mama says no, ask Daddy is a tried and true kid formula for achieving their desires.   Poor Daddy usually knows nothing about what is going on.  He is never asked anything, except for the location of Mom.  Daddy is just so delighted to be able to help in some small way with the parenting chores.  He is therefore unprepared for the tsunami of irritation that hits him when he walks into the room.  In the aftermath of groundings and time outs that follow,  Daddy gets chewed on as well.  He should have known to go ask Mama. 

How about you, fellow readers?  Anything that you think should never be said to any mother?  Put it in the comments!

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

I just realized that I need to get some more recent pictures of me with my son. This is one of two decent pictures of the two of us together:



Now, Father/Son pictures? There are TONS of these, because I am the one taking them. This one was taken just last month.



I guess I need to try harder. And bribe my child to participate.