I know I’m a little late with this. (This will certainly come as no surprise to my mother who has dealt with my excuses for oh-so-many years.) In any case, I wanted to take a few minutes to share a few goods words about dear old mom.
My mother is a woman of simple pleasures. She likes a good smelling candle and any mystery fare PBS can throw her way. She’s never met a coconut she doesn’t like. She’ll sit up putting together a puzzle until the wee hours of the morning, nursing a now-icy cup of Lipton tea. She can also spell anything and type faster than I can think.
She’s also one of these people who, if you gave her an hour’s time and a box full of junk, she would make something wildly artistic and/or functional.
She sings like a dying buzzard but has the moves Ginger Rogers.
She’s also absolutely gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that I would clamor to bring guys home to meet her. (She would pass any guy’s “This Is How My Girlfriend Will Look In Twenty Years” test with flying colors. Keeping my fingers crossed that this holds true…)
Also, when prompted, she can swear like a sailor. And she can strike up a conversation with anyone – from church lady to Hell’s Angel – any time of day or night. Mom will always find something nice and completely interesting to say. (“Oh, where did you find those leather chaps? Lovely!”)
Her generous heart has led her to fork over more than a few bucks, lend a hand, spare some dinner and offer a listening ear and open heart to anyone in need.
She is never without a hostess gift, matching outfit, scratch tickets and/or a large handbag.
My mother has taught me many things, mostly by example. However, one of the greatest things she taught me is to not take myself too seriously. To -- whenever possible – live, laugh and take things in stride.
The year was 1988 in the very early morning. It has snowed the night before and the ground was covered in ice. Nevertheless, school was in session.
At the time, I was in 6th grade and absolutely hated it. Not only was I in the throws of puberty but I was – hands down – the most unpopular kid in the school. So, I would try every single trick in the book to get out of school. This day, I had a built-in excuse.
Since I had a flair for the dramatic, I figured this would be pretty easy. Like clockwork, at 6 a.m., my public relations campaign began, “But Mooooom, I can’t go. It’s daaaaangerous outside. Don’t make me take the bus. I could DIE!!! Do you really want that, huh? HUH?”
Oh dear God, I was relentless.
However, to her credit, she wouldn’t budge. She just let me bitch to my heart’s content, fed me breakfast then walked me to the front door in her bathrobe.
I stood at the door and made one last, final plea:
“But, Mooooooom! It’s slippery! I don’t want to goooooooo!”
She just smiled, shook her head and opened the storm door leading down the stairs.
Now, I can still play the whole thing in slow motion…
I took my big, pink boot and put it on the first concrete step. ZHOOP! My foot slipped straight out from under me.
My mother, in a desperate attempt to break my fall, grabs the back of my winter coat (catching my hood instead) and dashed out on to the step. ZHOOP! ZHOOP! Both feet slip out from under her.
The next thing I remember is the two of us at the bottom of the stairs, limbs splayed all over the place, flat on our butts, covered in snow with my mother’s robe wide open – giving our elderly neighbor across the street an unobstructed view of all her bits and pieces.
For a moment, you could hear a pin drop.
Then, my mother let out a sharp giggle, which quickly snowballed into a series of howls. As she did her best to tie her robe, she looked at me and said, “Guess we gave Mr. Zell quite a show, huh? How about you take today off?”
With that, the two of us got on our hands and knees and crawled back into the house laughing the whole time.
So, thanks, Mom for always helping me see the bright (and funny) side of things. I love you! Happy Mother’s Day!
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