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.