Although some Sundays have passed since Mother’s Day, my mother knows me too well to expect poetry; I’m a mystery writer, not a poet laureate. I do not need any amount of fancy jargon to tell her how wonderful she has been to me and my two older brothers.
The fact is I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to describe what my mother means to mean. I suppose I could create a word search of over a thousand words, or a crossword puzzle with a hundreds of clues, a deluge of gifts that I cannot afford, or even something homemade, like my mother used to make for us. Making her breakfast in bed, we’ve been down that road before, the outcome was bleak; what can you expect from a bunch of kids under their fathers supervision?
She crochets, sews and knits, between making afghans and sewing quilts and designing toy clowns, my mother was a one woman dynamo; this certainly helped when my father was out of work, my mother insisted on doing her part, and did exactly what she had already had been doing. All of the toy clowns, afghans and quilts were created on our dining room table.
Eventually the crafty creations came to an end; if only my mother could have created the Build -A- Bear Workshop, if only she could have thought of something like that in the 1980’S. She’s made so many sacrifices, for herself and for her children. She did without new clothes, and shopped at discount clothing stores; lay-a-way was a God send when you are raising three children. So our clothes weren’t the best, but she always made sure dinner was on the table, yes we ate breakfast for dinner, but none of us complained about it.. My mother is truly an amazing woman, and she should be, she gave up a secretarial career to raise her family; my mother knew what was most important in her life. As any mother could tell you, motherhood is the most important job, much better than being a CEO of a company, a doctor, psychiatrist, mediator, laundress, chef, etc. When it all comes down to the bare bones of it, being a mother is the hardest job of them all. I must praise my mother for all of the sacrifices, sadness, hardships and care that she was given to my brothers and I.
I would like to do think I have followed in her footsteps, but how am I supposed to live up to a woman who is a crazy combination of Betty Crocker and Snow White, I only wish I could cook as great as she does. Sure I can bake, but I need a recipe to boil water, hopefully one day I will figure it all out..
If there was one thing she taught my brothers and I while growing up, it was always to be your self. I was never popular, and wore black, just as I still do now; I skipped the snowball dance to write, and ditched the prom to see a movie; she completely understood my reasons. Though I was never pushed to be the homecoming queen, I at least have one thing to be proud of, my amazing mother.
