I think I’m starting this series, “Other Mother Mondays”. I’m not sure how long it will run but we’ve all had women in our lives who have served as “mothers” to us. Women need each other, no matter age, race, education, or whatever else. I am so grateful to have all these amazing women in my life. I would love to hear from any of you with “other mother” experiences. Either you having that “other mother” or being that “other mother”. Email me or leave a comment and we can share your story as well.
Other Mothers (in order of appearance in my life)
(I haven’t nearly listed all of the “Mothers” in my life. This will always be an incomplete work that I will add to when I get inspired.)
I believe we all have many mothers. We have the mother that carried us a fetus and as an infant. We have the mother who stands in for mother while we are away from home. We have the friend who is a mother when we need someone to complain to or who will celebrate our victories. We have the mother who is the rock in our lives on different occasions. The mother who is related to us, the mother who is not. The mother who married into the family and the mother you have only known for a few months. We are all mothers and we can all be “other mothers”.
I have a mother. Her name is Dora, DoraJean if you really know her. She birthed me on November 1 and had to listen to my whine about how I always wanted to be born on Halloween. She taught write in a journal for me at age three, so I could learn to love writing. She taught go to storytime at the library to discover new places, new adventures, new stories to fall into. She taught Sunday breakfasts, Mexican chicken casserole and Friday popcorn nights, air popped popcorn with two scoops of butter and plenty of salt. She taught Gone with the Wind and North and South and that the book is always better than the movie.
She taught Michael Jackson music is for cleaning, Pink Floyd is for travelling and Kenneth Cope is for Sundays. She taught love your husband and go on weekly date nights. She taught rolls should always be homemade and Ghirardelli boxed brownies are the only way to go. She taught embarrassing your kids in the grocery store by singing along to the music and pushing all the buttons at the same time on the noisy kid’s toys while in Walmart. She taught missionary work will change lives, especially your own. She taught unwavering faith in Jesus Christ. She taught practical, resilient and uncomplaining. She taught be happy with what you have, be grateful for what you have. She taught family comes first.
She taught “crazy hair don’t care”. She taught laugh and laugh loud, “cackling” as my Dad fondly refers to it. Because laughter really is the best medicine. She taught constantly trying to giving up biting your nails, that you’re never too old to stop biting your nails. (I am still learning this.) She taught grumbling about exercise but doing it anyone because your husband wants to take you on a bike ride. She taught loving puzzles and fixing them three times when your kids mess them up. She taught lipstick and perfume on church days and clicking heels on the ground. She taught sending random pictures to your daughter’s phone because she just had a miscarriage and your desperate to help her feel better. She taught lots of listening.
I remember my mom having this quote on the wall growing up. It had some ducks on it or something? Anyway, I always thought it was kind of sad but now I love it because it’s so true. (Top right) My mom, older sister, Michelle and me on bike. (Bottom right) My parents because my mom wouldn’t be who she is without my dad (the best gravy maker in the world, nay, even the universe.)