Y'all, my mama is the kind, strong, supportive mama that you saw in sitcoms growing up. She's Claire Huxtable and Elise Keaton and Maggie Seaver, but she is most definitely not Roseanne. She is warm and inviting, but you knew when she gave you her I-Mean-Business-Eyes during church that she meant business and I BETTER turn around and be quiet. That's the kind of mama I aim to be.
She had an epidural when she was in labor with me, which didn't work, so then they gave her another. After two epidurals she started convulsing and they asked my dad to leave the room while they worked on her, then sent her for an emergency C-section. She's been quietly sacrificing on my behalf ever since.
My mama worked as a teacher at the elementary school when I was growing up. From kindergarten through second grade she taught at a different school than me, then in third grade we moved to a new town and we were at the same school. My peers would tattle on me to her, and she had a policy that I didn't get in trouble for anything she wouldn't have known about if she didn't teach there. And mostly she stuck to that. Mostly.
Like most mamas in that time, she worked all day, then fixed dinner for us at night. She was featured in our small town newspaper in the 80s with some of her recipes, her picture in a dress standing beside our old pie safe. Thursday nights my dad went to Kiwanis club so mama and I always went out to eat. (I particularly enjoyed the Wendy's Salad Bar in the 90s). My mama modeled for me that a woman could be a strong, independent working woman, and also take care of her family.
Then when my sister was born she went part-time. She worked from early morning until lunch, and was home with my sister by the time it was time for me to get out of middle school. I was challenging then, like many kids are, and I wonder in reflection if she'd have preferred to stay at work longer. There were times that I was ugly and she gave me some of my sass right back, but mostly she just patiently loved me through it.
My favorite story that exemplifies my mother is from when I started my period in middle school. It wasn't the first time, but when you're young you know sometimes these things catch you off guard and unprepared. I called my mom from school to tell her that I needed some supplies, but we had to use a pay phone in the front office where EVERYBODY (translation: probably nobody) could hear. It was vulnerable. I called my mom and said "I need you to bring me something to school." I gave her no clues as to what the something might be. Lunch, homework, pencils, I guess it could have been anything.
My mom responded "What do you need?"
"Yes" I said.
"Did you start your period?"
"Yes" I said casually, my inner voice rejoicing that I didn't have to say it in front of EVERYONE.
"Okay, I'll be there", she said calmly.
A little while later I was called to the office. The receptionist gave me a plastic bag that my mom had dropped off. I went to the bathroom and opened it, where I found pads, underwear, a washcloth, and a note that said "You can just throw your underwear and the wash cloth away." That woman. As a preteen there were times where everything she did got under my skin, but I had never loved her so much as I did in that moment. She got it. I didn't even tell her what I needed, and she showed up with what I needed and more. I doubt I even thanked her.
In high school she was the backstage helper in the show that was my life. Food drives, club meetings, powder puff games, school dances, and banquets consumed my life and she was there helping set up, driving me places, and making backdrops for everything, while getting none of the credit and letting me shine in the spotlight.
When I started college I moved into a house, and she helped me pick out new sheets, curtains, and silverware. When I came home for dinner one night and my sister begged me to stay and live at home again, I cried, and said maybe I would move back. She teared up too, but she looked at me with her I-Mean-Business-Eyes and told me that I had to go back. I left my 7 year old sister crying that night, but it was what I needed to do, and what I needed to hear.
When I started my first job my mama helped me pick out office supplies and practice what I would say to clients. When I took my clinical exam, she helped me study flashcards and called out symptoms for me to practice diagnosing. She stood beside me in the bathroom as I threw up before I walked down the aisle to get married.
She retired just before The Boy was born, so that she could keep him. Neither of us knew what that would look like. I labored for 12 hours with him, and at the last minute decided I wanted her in the room for his birth.
After The Boy was born my mama stayed with us for probably 2 weeks. The Boy didn't weigh enough, breastfeeding wasn't going well, and we had to wake him and feed him every hour and a half. The process would take up to 45 minutes, and then we had 45 minutes before needing to start again. I was exhausted, I was overwhelmed, and I loved The Boy more than anything but this wasn't what I was expecting parenting to be like. She was patient, she was calm, and she used her I-Mean-Business-Eyes on me more than once. One day she drove me to see Pat, the baby whisperer and lactation consultant. I didn't make it in the door before I started crying. I told Pat through sobs how everything was going wrong, and how overwhelmed I was. Mama sat beside me, crying too. I don't know how we would have made it through that time without her.
She stayed again after BeYoYo was born, though our needs were less severe. The Husband asked me how long she was planning to stay. I told him I wasn't sure, and asked if he didn't want her to come. "No" he said "I want her to stay for a long time!"
Now she keeps our kids. She picks them up from school, she feeds them, she makes them take a nap. If I called her today and said I've decided to put them both on an all-liquid diet, she would say "okay. Now do I need to get them the liquids or are you going to send them?" Last week when The Boy got into Wild Intelligence the day before it started, I was trying to rearrange my schedule so that I could pick him up, but it was proving difficult with one day's notice. Mama said "I believe in this. I can do whatever you need so he can get to go."
That woman. I can't imagine what our life would be like without her in it. When I try to thank her for all the things she does for us she rolls her eyes and changes the subject, like this is what she's supposed to be doing. That's not like me. If I did something nice for someone I'd clear my throat and remind them of it all the time.
She goes to Goodwill like it's her job. If you need a product researched, she's your woman. She sews, she exercises, and she's active in her Sunday School class. She's a beast on a laptop or a smart phone, and she can tell you if there's an app for that. She has a group of women called the Shopping Queens that she's been friends with for more than 20 years, and a best friend she's known more than 40. She's been through a fair share of hardships, but she has endured and continues to have a positive outlook on life.
So today I wish my mama the happiest of birthdays. She is still showing me what it means to be a hard working woman and take care of a family- it's just now that family is usually mine. We love you, Pammie. And we are so thankful that you are in our lives.
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