Midwest. Motherhood. Marriage. Martinis. | In praise of "The General"

In praise of "The General"

Posted on May 14, 2006
Filed Under Uncategorized |

I often reflect upon my mother’s child-rearing journey. Especially on Mother’s Day.

If you’ve been reading this blog for even a month, you’ve already noticed that I refer to my mom as “The General.” She may be small but she’s mighty. She’s quick, energetic and has a work ethic that makes the Quakers look like complete slackers. Although I’ve often joked that she’s like a human version of a Border Collie on crack, I secretly admire this about her.

Growing up, my mom and I had a complicated relationship. We usually didn’t see eye-to-eye. (On some things, we STILL don’t but at least we’ve agreed to disagree. heehee.) I told myself often that when I was a mom, I’d do EVERYTHING differently.

But as I became a wife and mother, I understood my mother’s plight alot more. It was tough living in her skin. She had alot of struggles throughout her life. And I’ve learned so much from this brave, strong soul.

My maternal grandma had Alzheimer’s. My most vivid memory of this woman is of her peeing on our coffee table and my mom having to clean it up. She once tried to eat plastic grapes. My mom took them out of her mouth saying, ‘Oh no Grandma. Those aren’t for eating.”

My mother spent alot of time taking care of grandma as well as cleaning and cooking for her parents. When my Grandma entered the nursing home, my mom not only visited grandma each Monday, she’d brush her teeth, take her to the bathroom, and ask the nurse about Grandma’s well-being.

The nursing home reeked of urine. Old people in wheel chairs wandered the halls. Grandma was usually tied to a wheelchair or regular chair to prevent a shuffling escape. My siblings and I hated going there. Looking back I’m sure these visits broke my mom’s heart. But she remained strong. These visits taught my siblings and I strength, courage, and the importance of family loyalty.

My parents lived in a very small town. There weren’t alot of decent opportunities for a man of no skillset or education. But mom MADE my dad’s paycheck stretch. There was no money for silly little luxuries like a magazine or candybar. But from her, I learned the value of an education and how to stretch a dollar when I need to. I also learned the importance of saving money for those bumpy rainy days.

At one point, my dad worked his job during the day and attended junior college at night. Mom was often home alone with three obnoxious children who are very close in age. She had no time for friends. This experience taught me the value of making time to maintain my close friendships. I’ve learned the value of a thriving support system and how to reach out and ask for emotional support when I need it.

My mother’s father thought women were put on earth to have babies and serve man. When he was in his 80’s, he spent his last years in the same nursing home with my grandma. By then, my mom had been back in the workforce for a number of years. Between her job, her family and home, she didn’t have much free time. But she continued to visit her ailing parents weekly and to often take a piece of angelfood cake to Grandpa.

In high school, I once got into a screaming match with my mom. I said, “Why do you make us visit that man when he’s been so mean to you? Why do waste your time like that?” She stopped what she was doing and began to cry. She simply said, ‘Because he’s my dad. And I love him.”

Looking back, I want to kick myself for saying that. From her I learned the art of forgiveness. If she could forgive him, then I should do. He was too proud to apologize all of those years of hurt. But she choose to accept him for what he was, open her heart, and love him regardless. She chooses to remember the good in Grandpa. She understands that Grandpa’s ways were the product of his childhood. Grandpa’s father was a violent and abusive drunk with a gambling problem.

Every week we went to church. I often complained about my mother’s insistence on getting to mass 15 minutes early. Looking back I realize that this quiet time before mass was the only 15 minutes of peace she got all week! And I’ve learned that I need/enjoy my quiet time too.

Since becoming a mom, I’ve wished I could go back in time. I would befriend my mom. I would show up during her kids’ nap time with a smile and an Almond Joy (her favorite candy bar). I’d offer to watch her “little monsters” while she took a walk. I’d make her laugh when she was pissed at her husband. I’d send her birthday cards or run to the store for medicine when her children were sick. I’d hug her when she was happy or sad. I’d listen to her. I’d let her know she’s an incredible, beautiful woman.

My mom has learned alot from her experiences. She’s the fabulous, fun grandma that she’s wanted for her children. She’s the active, supportive, loving mom she’s wanted for herself. She’s an inspiration and a class act.

That’s my mom. And someday when I grow up — if I grow up — I hope to be just like her.

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