A mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart -- a heart so large that everybody's grief and everybody's joy found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation.
--Mark Twain
Happy Mother's Day to my mom, my mother in-law, and all the moms of the world! :-)
Mom. Ma. Mama. Mommy. Mother. I've called my mom all those and still do, to this day. "Mother" is used least; I might use it jokingly, but to my ears it sounds too formal and lacks warmth. She has done everything for me that society expects of a mom: fed, clothed, washed, and nursed me back to health the numerous time I was sick. She was always there to open the door for me when I walked home from elementary school, and walked home from the bus stop during my junior and senior high school (although I was allowed to have a key to the house by 8th grade or so and let myself into the house).
My mom has a good listening ear and loves to chatter on the phone. Like me. ;-) She has such a huge heart for a small person. It seems a lot people rely on her...even people whom I'm sure she'd prefer they not rely upon her all the time. This must mean they trust her as someone whom they can confide their troubles to.
She has always done her best to cheer me up when I've been blue, she cheers with me when I've done well, gives me advice from time to time on matters big and small, and is probably, generally, concerned about her youngest daughter's health and well-being in more ways than I can fathom.
This is not to say we didn't have rough spots along the way. But thankfully, there haven't been too many of those. ;-) I admire my mom for who she is and for what she has done for her family, despite difficult circumstances. I think my mom is one of the few people in the world who doesn't have one mean bone in her body.
My mil (mother in-law) has always been Mom to me. I love her dearly, too! Like my mom, she has a huge heart and it seems to me that over the years, many of her friends and acquaintances rely on her good listening ear. I doubt she has one mean bone in her body, either. She has always been loving and kind towards me, from the day we met. She often gives of herself to others, whether they are in need or not. She's a great friend to me and to her own friends. I wouldn't want any other mother in-law! :-)
Moms are cool! I often find myself drawn towards women who are moms. I don't know if it's because I'm on the east coast and my mom is on the west coast, but I do have many friends and acquaintances who happen to be moms.
I think I am drawn to moms because I generally admire mothers. They do SO much! They are SO underappreciated! There was a time in my life when I wanted nothing more than to be a mom. To bear my own baby. But since that didn't quite work out, I decided to make my life's work "my baby". Bear other fruit, as hubby would say. I still admire moms and cute and cuddly babies. ;-)
I've heard of "bad" mothers and mothers in-law over the years from friends. I lucked out. Big time. ;-) Ones who badgered and belittled their daughters for not getting "A"s in all their classes, or who loudly bemoaned the fact they only had daughters, not sons. Or mothers in-law who were meddlesome, opinionated, and/or described as "the Iron Lady" (to put it mildly!). That's just a short list! Since I did not know these women and perhaps only met a few of them on a few brief encounters during my school years, I cannot relate.
I can however relate with those friends when they expressed--sometimes bitterly, the profound disappointment that their mothers conveyed to them in whatever they had done wrong. With Asian friends, the sense of shame was present, without a doubt. If there is anything negative to be said about our Asian mommies, it's that they have elevated the expression of disappointment into a look that says: how could you shame me/the family/yourself like this?, to an art form! %-0
The first time I experienced the gravity of my mother's disappointment was when I got in trouble in 3rd grade for talking when the teacher was talking. My best friend tried to get my attention--not once, but twice, to stop talking. The third time, my teacher said my name, and not in the most pleasant manner!
Uh oh! Busted!
I had to write: I will not talk in class when the teacher is talking, on one of those big, beige-colored and blue-lined papers and fill the whole page up. And have my parents sign it.
Drum roll, please...!
Of course, I went to my mom first. I tried to plead with her to pu-leeeze not let Daddy see it. I was all too aware of what he might do; I was afraid of him. Please?! But she just gave me The Look. She looked at the paper, and then looked at me. A few times over. It was The Look, alright. "Why? How could you do this? I'm very disappointed in you! I think you need to show this to your father."
Aww, shucks! It didn't work. It was more my mother's LOOK, than what she said, that pierced me. I can't explain it now, nor could I then, but I was thinking I was a pretty clever girl and thought I could wrap my pop around my fingers by being humorous in some bizarre way. I folded up the paper, then asked him, "Daddy! Can I have your autograph?"
HAHAHAHA! %-0
That didn't work either. WWIII broke out in the form of his fury. He was so angry the paper shook in his hands. He yelled and cussed me out for what seemed like forever, but was probably about 15 minutes or so, demanding I never do such a thing again.
Well, I didn't do that again: talking in class while the teacher was talking. However, in 7th grade, I got caught writing on the wall! Red-handed. A classmate who I knew since 4th grade and with whom I shared a mutual hatred of each other, made fun of my teeny-bopper poster of a pop star in my locker and all his friends laughed along with him. I was SO angry with him! So I wrote on the wall: "I hate W--- I-------!" when along came an older man with a shiny bald head.
He boomed: "YOUNG LADY! You erase that right now or I'll have the front office call your parents". So I did. Oooh! He was scary. He said he'd let me off the hook this time, but if he caught me again...sorry, Charlie!
So he spared me The Look from my mother and my father's wrath. But, boy oh boy, I paid for it the following year: that big, gruff, bald man became my math teacher in 8th grade!! And my mom, who never once missed a parent-teacher conference in all my 12 years of school, met with him, too. I was hoping he wouldn't fib on my grafitti job--hoping he'd forget because he was an old guy (such age discrimination on my part!), and I believe he never did since I was always present with my mom on those parent-teacher evenings.
Enough of my delinquency! That's another thing about my mom: she never missed a beat when it came to my education. There were many times, especially as I got older, that I wanted her not to attend those parent-teacher evenings. Most especially in high school! I even asked her once or twice if she wouldn't mind skipping the evening, to which she looked at me disapprovingly and replied, "Of course I'm going!" And then she and I would go to school--and my classmates and I would exchange knowing glances as if to say: yes, we are forced to be here with our mothers...this is most certainly torture of the highest order! time to be raked over the coals! the inquisition! you got a B? oh, too bad...so close to an A! try harder next time! %-0
Funny how the number of mothers dwindled as years passed on. It was the norm in elementary school for our moms to show up on those all-important parent-teacher evenings. Then slowly, through junior high and then senior high, the presence of moms lessened. However, die-hard moms like mine--and especially of my Asian classmates, never failed to show up! Let us all share in this evening of embarrassment and torture under the microscopic lenses of our mothers, while they gang up on us with our teachers! %-(
Now, of course, we can all say, our moms loved us so much! A mother's love can manifest in ways we may never understand! %-)
I try to call my mom every week to see how she is. She is the kind of mom who has to live forever. I told her that, too. "If I'm 100 years old, you have to live to be 100 and....years!" I want my mil to be around when I'm old, too!
Mothers are an integral part of my life. My mom. My mom in-law. My friends who've been like moms to me over the years. My friends who are moms. They are excellent role models as moms and as women, in general.
I love them and I need them! :-)
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