For those special moments...and we all have them.

For all of us, there are moments we'd like to have frozen in time. Maybe that special date with the one you ended up marrying, maybe the wedding, maybe the moment you saw your child for the first time. I could go on and on. For me, a story I'm going to share here today ranks way up there. It's a moment in time - a celebration of sorts - that I hope (and I say "hope" because of that dreadful Alzheimer's disease) will remain etched in my mind forever.

For nearly all of the celebrations in our lives as I was growing up, Mom made her fabulous, unlike any other meatloaf. Birthdays, good grades, choir concerts and other momentous occasions  were made even more special with Mom's home-cooked meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. And if that meal was on the table, there was also a party goin' on in our mouths, because everyone in the family agreed that Mom's sweet meatloaf was the absolute best.

So, tonight, as I reflect on this past year, my husband and I are celebrating my mother's life with a special meal - her meatloaf. I haven't made it since before she passed away one year ago tomorrow.

Before I get out all the ingredients, I want to share a story that's been difficult for me to discuss. I hope you don't mind, but you'll understand why I need to share it today, and why I've chosen today to celebrate Mom and all she was and still is to me.

In the late afternoon on Sept. 25, as she was lying in her newly erected hospital bed (which she did not want brought in, and had to be convinced that it would be the best thing for her), I took her bag of cross-stitching to her. She had been in severe pain, and I thought I could help get her mind off of that and on to something more positive. I've mentioned in past posts that she cross-stitched ornaments for all of the girls in the family every year and gave them as gifts at Thanksgiving.

When I opened the bag and told her that I could only find three of her ornaments, there was an immediate change in her -- exactly at that moment -- a change that lasted about three hours. But in looking back, it seems like it was only minutes. She took the bag from me and began looking through it saying she had made more than that. She wanted out of bed and wanted to go into her living room and sit in her recliner.

I called my husband and brother in from the garage, granting Mom's wish, and we moved her into her living room. In the back of my mind - I knew what was happening. My mother was having what I call an awakening. She was completely pain free, spoke to my son on the phone for more than a half hour, went through all her cross-stitching instruction books and told me which ones she had made in past years and for whom, ate dinner with my husband, my brother and me, and tried to work a crossword puzzle.

Mother was filled with such happiness; the smile on her face went literally from ear to ear. She was more beautiful than I had ever seen her -- almost child-like. It was as if she was floating on Cloud Nine; glowing.

As we sat at the dinner table while she tried to work the crossword puzzle, I saw her eyelids getting heavy. I didn't want her to fall asleep, because I knew it would all end, so I did all I could to keep her awake. Finally, we had no choice but to move her back into her bed and then Mother and I started watching Dancing With The Stars on television. She commented how Kirstie Alley was her favorite competitor, but within moments, she fell asleep. About an hour later, she awoke in pain.

I won't go into all that happened during the rest of the night, because I am determined to celebrate and not mourn.

I am so blessed to have been a part of those three-hours with my mother in her euphoric state. It was nothing short of beautiful. I wish I could have frozen it in time.

And, how fitting that today our household is also celebrating another great moment - my husband is the winner of the coveted mirror ball trophy from our own version of the popular TV dance show - here called Dancing With Our PALs. It's an annual fundraiser for the local Police Athletic League and the children it serves. I truly wish my mother could have seen him dance his Paso Doble', Country Two-Step and Wobble; she'd have been both stunned and so very proud! (I guess this is what they call a full circle.)

So let's celebrate with Mom's Meatloaf:

 

For meatloaf:
1 lb. ground beef                         1 egg
1 tsp. salt                                     1/2 cup catsup
1 small onion, chopped               1 cup oats

Mix it all together and form a loaf.
Bake at 35-degrees in a covered baking dish for about one-hour, pouring sauce over the top of the meatloaf about 45-minutes into baking.

And now for the sauce:
1 cup catsup                                1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 tbsp. mustard

Mix all ingredients together.
Remove cover from baking meatloaf and pour sauce over meatloaf 45-minutes into baking. Continue baking for about 15-minutes at 350-degrees. (or until done)

Bon Appetit, Mom!

For dessert, I prepared a parfait of brownie bits and white chocolate pudding.

Yummy.

Tonight we celebrate my mother, her influence on me, her love for family, her culinary prowess, her appreciation for my husband, her Girl Scout leadership skills, her being the greatest grandmother on this earth, her smile - her life.

"Thank you, Mom, for giving me those three-ish hours to look back on with such happiness. I'm still trying to figure things out, Mom, but tomorrow I'll jump right in and do it all, again. I love you and miss you."

 

 

Mommyisms -- share yours

What is your earliest memory?
Mine is my third birthday, celebrated at our home in Mounds, Ill.
My grandmother (my mother's mother) and I were having a pretend tea party when suddenly I was picked up and put in my room. I didn't know it at the time, but my grandmother had suddenly died.

That's my earliest memory - not the best circumstances for a memory, but rather early just the same.

Then I have the memories of all the mommyisms.
You know...like the one I've shared in an earlier post, "You're going to do wonders and eat green cucumbers."
Or - "Put your sweater on. I'm cold!"

So, I've decided to devote this post to a few of those things my mother used to say to me -- things I'm sure your mothers have also said to you.

Mother hated to hear my younger sister and me whine and we weren't allowed to mope. Whatever the circumstances, we were expected to "dry it up." "Pick up your lip or some one's going to step on it." "Stop your crying, or I'll give you something to cry about!" she'd say. Naturally we didn't want that happening, because that would mean getting swatted with the dirty fly swatter. Yuck!

Mom also said, "You can get glad in the same pants you got mad in," and "The world doesn't owe you a living." So, I learned that the sooner I take responsibility for my actions, and figure out a plan for where I wanted to go, the better off I'd be.

Have you ever known anyone who jumped off a bridge? My nephew once did. He's one person who could answer, "Yes," to the age-old question, "If your friends jumped off the bridge, would you?"
Of course, when my mother would ask me that question, I wanted to ask "Who all is going? and What are they wearing?" But a level head prevailed, which kept me from actually being pushed off that bridge. As badly as I hated being left out of anything, many a time I did not participate in something because I knew she'd hear about it and I'd have to answer that question.

Mother also said, "There's no sense in crying over spilled milk." That's a lesson that, to this day, I still have not learned. I've just never been able to turn my emotions off and on like a water faucet -- though I sure wish I could.

As I look back and see how quickly the years passed, I think about all the lessons learned. My mother taught me that "into every life a little rain must fall, but if you have a good umbrella and a tube of red lipstick, you can get through anything." That's a life lesson that I hope I've passed on to my son (except for the red lipstick part).

Another memory I have is when I wanted to have my ears pierced. She said, "If God had wanted you to have holes in your ears, he would have put them there himself." Did I listen? No!
I got some ice, froze my earlobes one at a time and poked a dirty sewing needle and thread right through them. I was petrified when I couldn't get one of my ears to stop bleeding -- but that "don't cry over spilled milk" thing sure came in handy.

From my earliest memories, I knew that the same woman who tanned my hide with that dirty fly-swatter also had my back - always! She was proud of every one of my accomplishments; from learning how to play the flutophone in elementary school to becoming the editor of a social magazine and everything in-between. My proud mother would read excerpts from that weekly literary wonder to friends and family on the telephone. She kept copies in her bedside table, where they remain today.

I'll soon be 60 and in just 10 more days it will be a year since Mother passed away. The more things have changed, the more they have stayed the same. I love words, and my reason for writing hasn't varied - I need to tell the story. Unfortunately, without my mother's words of encouragement, I do feel stagnant at times.

My mother taught me by example just how important it is for my own son to know there is always someone there rooting for him, someone who loves him unconditionally.

Mom's been gone a year, and I still miss her so much. She was more than my mom, she was my best friend. We liked the same things: gardening, sewing, cooking and crafting. We shared everything, and I'm not sorry for one minute of it. Even though she's no longer here, the things we shared keep me going.

I love you, Mom, and miss you more and more everyday.