Oh Mama

Mothers’ day approaches.  Grace tells me it will be my best Mothers’ Day EVER, and I can’t wait until Sunday.  But fortunately for all the world, I am not the only mother around.

Us mothers, we stick together.  It is hard enough being a mother, without other mothers to complain to or explain to or confirm the acceptable nature of our behavior (even if the other mother lies to us).  Sometimes, other mothers push us, too.  They inspire us, even if we are reluctant to be inspired.  My neighbor Michelle inspired me, recently, to paint Andra’s room again, because she had just painted her daughter’s room.  Since the girls always come home with stories about how great other mothers (especially Michelle) are, I had to get painting, didn’t I?  See?  Inspiration.

So I painted Andra’s room, because she has been begging to have it painted, and looking for colors and inspiration for months, in spite of the fact that I told her I wouldn’t paint her room until she was 16 when she made me paint it PURPLE a couple years ago.  I was thinking how funny it is that I didn’t really care about my room when I was a kid – not only did I not care (that I remember) if it was pretty, but my treatment of my room bordered on neglect and abandonment.  My room was a disaster, most of the time, and my mom was extremely tolerant of my slovenly habits.  But then I remembered something.  I remembered how seemingly out of the blue, my mom did a makeover on my room – although they weren’t called makeovers yet. 

She wallpapered it with this lovely wallpaper with little yellow roses in vertical stripes, and she hung white shelves on one wall.   She got me a clock radio (which I spent many a night listening to and feeling SO grown up).  I think my carpet was bright yellow, which probably explains her inspiration, but still, it was beautiful.  Michelle’s room had blue boy wallpaper and blue carpet and Julie’s had red carpet and pink wallpaper, both of which came with the house,  but MY room was now MINE. 

I had a lot of fun in that room.  I used to hide in the closet (on the top shelf!) and read.  I ignored anyone who came looking for me.  I once hid a puppy – you heard me, a PUPPY – in my closet for a week, and get this – my Mom (and Dad) let me KEEP it.  One Christmas, I got my own fresh cut tree, with lights, to keep in my room.  All in all, that makeover was more than a makeover, it was a manifestation of my mom’s love. 

I don’t always remember all the ways she loved me when I was small – because hello!  I was small.  But when I do remember things, here and there, I realize that having mothers to complain and explain to is important, but having a mother who was truly a mother to us is even better.

Thanks, Mom. For everything.

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