Due to moving and traveling, I’ve fallen a bit behind in my blogposts, so this one is a couple of weeks late… The prompt for week 18 was “Mother’s Day”. When I hear “Mother’s Day”, there is only one person I can write about. My best friend. My mom. Despite the fact that I normally try to avoid writing about the living, I cannot write about anyone else.
My mother is the strongest, most courageous woman I know. She’s very intelligent and has a quick wit. She’s also a woman of principles. In fact, one of her phrases I remember most from my childhood is, “it’s the principle of the matter.” As an adult, I admire those principles, and often hear myself uttering the same phrase. As a teenager, her principles were a source of embarrassment at times. I remember once when she stopped at a local store to buy mustard. I was in high school, and one of my classmates was the cashier. When he told my mother the amount she owed, she was quick to point out that because the item was food, there should be no sales tax. I don’t remember the outcome of the conversation (I was busy praying the floor would open and swallow me whole), but knowing my mother, I’m pretty sure she left the mustard and bought it somewhere else.
One Mother’s Day when I was a child, I saw my mother sitting on the edge of her bed crying softly. My mother very rarely cried. I asked her why she was crying, and she said it was because it was Mother’s Day. Now I was really confused. It was a day that was all about her. I mean, cards and presents, what was there to cry about? She said she was sad because she no longer had her mother. My grandmother had died when my mother was only 24. I was just a toddler when she passed and had no memory of her. I’ve never forgotten my mother’s sadness that day, and always try to give my mom a wonderful Mother’s Day.
When I was very young, Mom made the very wise decision to divorce my biological father. My father had a propensity for making poor choices, and I’m glad my mom realized we would be better off without him around. I’ve often thought it was the best decision she has ever made. Without her making the decision to divorce my father, I would not have gained an amazing stepfather. This year, he and my mother will celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. I never think of him as my stepfather. He’s simply, “Dad”. Their wedding was one of the happiest days of my life.
As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I always preferred sitting indoors reading, rather than being outside engaging in physical activity. My mother is the one who instilled the love of reading in me, but she also did her best to get me outside and active. She would try to make it fun, and would get me to race her in our backyard. Once, mid-race, I plopped down on the grass next to my dad and remarked, “Look at the old girl go!” My mother was probably in her late 20’s at the time… We would also go to the local community center to play tennis. I enjoyed playing, but was quite terrible. My mother loved to play, and was good, so it must’ve been so frustrating to play against a child who rarely made contact with the ball. I was always glad when my dad could go with us. They would play tennis and I would watch from the swings.
Dad mostly worked second shift when I was growing up, so most nights it was just Mom and I at home. Mom worked full time during the day. Even though many women in the late 70’s worked, it seemed like very few of my friends had working moms. I was so proud to tell my friends that my mother had a job. Despite working full time, she still found time to chaperone field trips and bake cupcakes with me and my friends.
My mother has a great sense of humor. Though as a teenager, I didn’t always appreciate it… As a rule, she is quiet and dignified, but occasionally, she would come out with something outrageous just for shock value. Once, I had a male friend over the house and Mom told him he looked constipated. He later asked me what made him look constipated. I assured him that he didn’t – it was just my mom’s sense of humor. Another time, my mother and I were playing miniature golf at a course within walking distance of our house. About halfway through, I caught her writing “Ellen loves boys” with the scoring pencils on the pedestals at each hole. And you know those little pencils don’t have erasers! Since I was the only Ellen in my school, everyone would know it was written about me. When I complained about it, my mother looked at me with the most innocent expression and said, “What? You don’t like boys?” What were once major sources of embarrassment are now cherished memories. I know that if I had a daughter of my own, she would be tortured in much the same way.
About 15 years ago, Mom and Dad moved from Rhode Island to Maine. I found it difficult at first. Gone were our impulsive coffee dates. No longer could she call me and invite me along for an errand. Thank goodness for free long distance plans. Mom and I talk on the phone nearly every day. The drive is only a few hours, so I see them often. When I became interested in genealogy, Mom became interested as well. I love sharing my discoveries with her, even when they’re from my father’s side of the family. With most of Mom’s ancestors being from Ireland, she had always wanted to visit that country. After my biological father died at age 61, I decided life was too short, and we should take her dream vacation. Dad remained at home as it wasn’t his dream vacation, and someone needed to be around to care for their cat. We had an amazing time. We visited the areas where some of our ancestors were from. It was a magical trip. After that vacation we decided to take a trip together every other year near Mother’s Day. For our next trip we rented a cottage on a beach in Florida. When we thought about where this year’s trip would take us, Mom suggested a return trip to Ireland. I couldn’t say no!
When I started this blogpost, she was sitting beside me 30,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, as we headed to Dublin. During our last trip to Ireland, we spent most of our time off the beaten path, visiting non-touristy places in search of our roots. This time, we stayed in Dublin. We took a bus trip to Belfast, and another to tour the scenic Ring of Kerry. We also traveled to England, visiting Manchester to see where our Marsden and Whittle ancestors were from. We visited the cemetery where Mom’s third great grandfather is buried and saw the church where her great grandfather was baptized. The hotel we stayed at was comprised of converted 17th century farm buildings and located less than a mile from the church and cemetery. It’s not much of a stretch to think that our ancestors spent at least some time at that property. It was an incredible trip, and I’m glad I was able to share the experience with my mom.
I’m so lucky to have such an amazing mom. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you so very, very much!