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Will you tell me wonderful stories about your mothers?


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Oh sweet Crissy. I am so sorry. Bless you. :grouphug:

 

I will share a story. My mother and I have a rocky relationship at times, but it is getting better. She's a tough woman, and she has had a hard life. Right after my dad left us when I was almost 5 and my brother was 2, she took on a second job just to feed and clothe us. We struggled for a several years until she met my wonderful step father and married him. I remember at one point during those hard years, my aunt decided to take her two kids to see the circus. My brother and I had never been, and we wanted to go so bad. My mom simply could not afford to take us. But she made a way. She picked up "night crawlers" (earthworms) and sold them (for fish bait) to make money. Then she sat and rolled up enough change to put with the night crawler money so that we could not only go to the circus with my aunt, but we even got to have a drink and a cotton candy. I will NEVER forget that as long as I live. It might not seem like a lot to some people, but because of that I won't ever doubt that even though she doesn't always show it, my mother loves me with all that she has.

 

I don't know if that's the kind of thing you are talking about, but it's what I've got. Praying for you sweet friend. :grouphug:

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I am sorry...

 

I posted this a couple years ago:

 

My mom would have been seventy today.

 

She died over 20 years ago (three years after my dad died.) Some birthdays are tougher than others. Seventy seems like such a milestone that it hurts very much to even think of her.

 

My mom had black curly hair and hazel eyes that looked green most of the time. She smelled like freckles. She had a beautiful smile. She loved the Mets (probably because my dad loved the Yankees.) She was a nurse. Nothing medically related phased her. She called me poochie. She still let me sit on her lap, even when I was a teenager. She loved her Irish heritage. Our last meal together was corned beef and cabbage. She could get along with anyone. She was a people watcher. She loved Motown. She loved to dance. She lived in Miami during the Cuban Missle Crisis and didn't even know it was happening until she was older. She once bet my (future) dad she could quit her job in the morning and get a new one before night time and she did!

 

I really miss her.

__________________

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:grouphug::grouphug::grouphug:

 

I called my mother when my eldest dd entered her teen years and said, "I am SO sorry for everything I did and said when I was a teenager," and she laughed and laughed. She told me I am a wonderful mother and that she's just as proud of me now as she was then. It was just a little thing, but I treasure that moment because it hit me right when I needed to hear it. She's got that knack.

 

:grouphug:

 

You and your mother are in my prayers.

 

Cat

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Oh sweet Crissy. I am so sorry. Bless you. :grouphug:

 

I will share a story. My mother and I have a rocky relationship at times, but it is getting better. She's a tough woman, and she has had a hard life. Right after my dad left us when I was almost 5 and my brother was 2, she took on a second job just to feed and clothe us. We struggled for a several years until she met my wonderful step father and married him. I remember at one point during those hard years, my aunt decided to take her two kids to see the circus. My brother and I had never been, and we wanted to go so bad. My mom simply could not afford to take us. But she made a way. She picked up "night crawlers" (earthworms) and sold them (for fish bait) to make money. Then she sat and rolled up enough change to put with the night crawler money so that we could not only go to the circus with my aunt, but we even got to have a drink and a cotton candy. I will NEVER forget that as long as I live. It might not seem like a lot to some people, but because of that I won't ever doubt that even though she doesn't always show it, my mother loves me with all that she has.

 

I don't know if that's the kind of thing you are talking about, but it's what I've got. Praying for you sweet friend. :grouphug:

 

That is perfect and beautiful. Thank you, thank you, Nakia.

 

Does your mother see, in the same way that you see, the sacrifices she made for her children? I would guess the answer is, "No."

That is true for my mom. She really doesn't see it.

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I am sorry...

 

I posted this a couple years ago:

 

My mom would have been seventy today.

 

She died over 20 years ago (three years after my dad died.) Some birthdays are tougher than others. Seventy seems like such a milestone that it hurts very much to even think of her.

 

My mom had black curly hair and hazel eyes that looked green most of the time. She smelled like freckles. She had a beautiful smile. She loved the Mets (probably because my dad loved the Yankees.) She was a nurse. Nothing medically related phased her. She called me poochie. She still let me sit on her lap, even when I was a teenager. She loved her Irish heritage. Our last meal together was corned beef and cabbage. She could get along with anyone. She was a people watcher. She loved Motown. She loved to dance. She lived in Miami during the Cuban Missle Crisis and didn't even know it was happening until she was older. She once bet my (future) dad she could quit her job in the morning and get a new one before night time and she did!

 

I really miss her.

__________________

 

She sounds like an amazing woman. Thank you for sharing her with me.

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:grouphug::grouphug::grouphug:

 

I called my mother when my eldest dd entered her teen years and said, "I am SO sorry for everything I did and said when I was a teenager," and she laughed and laughed. She told me I am a wonderful mother and that she's just as proud of me now as she was then. It was just a little thing, but I treasure that moment because it hit me right when I needed to hear it. She's got that knack.

 

:grouphug:

 

You and your mother are in my prayers.

 

Cat

 

Thank you, Cat.

My mom would laugh at that phone call, too, but she would add that she couldn't believe that her grandchildren could possibly be as troublesome as her own children were! :lol:

 

Thank you.

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That is perfect and beautiful. Thank you, thank you, Nakia.

 

Does your mother see, in the same way that you see, the sacrifices she made for her children? I would guess the answer is, "No."

That is true for my mom. She really doesn't see it.

 

You know, it's interesting that you ask because I brought that story up to her a few weeks back, and she didn't even remember it. She remembers how hard she worked and how hard she fought for us during those years. But I remember those little kindnesses and the smallest sacrifices she made for us. She grew up with a mentally ill, abusive mother, so she really doesn't know how to be kind and loving, and doesn't realize it when she is. To her, everything is a battle with a winner and a loser. It's sad, but I have come to realize that she did the very best she could. And though I longed (and still do, to a point) for an affectionate and praising mother, she just won't ever be that way. And that's okay. I read a quote once that said, "A person might not love you the way you think they should, but that doesn't mean that they don't love you with everything they have." Truer words were never spoken.

:grouphug:

Edited by Nakia
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I am sorry you are going through so much pain.:grouphug:

 

Mine is kinda similar to Nakia's. My parents divorced when I was 6 and my little sister was 3. My mom got a job across the city. It took her an hour and a half to drive home. She came home exhausted every evening. One evening she came home while my sister and I were playing school. She was so tired that she immediately laid down on my sister's bed and watched us play. We begged her to join us and after a few minutes she did. She was so tired that she played along while laying down. I will never forget her willingness to play with us even though she was so tired. I appreciate that memory even more now as an adult with my own little guys. I remember my mom and I try not to turn them away even when I would prefer sone quiet time.

 

I told my mom about that memory a couple of years ago and thanked her for working so hard to keep us fed and clothed. As a child I saw and understood some, but now as an adult I really understand her struggle. My mom is my hero.:D

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Every year my Dad would want to take my Mom out for their anniversary, and she would say, "Well yes. But it won't be any fun without the children" and would take us too. They did manage dates somehow as well and I think she was a great wife, but I just fondly remember her saying that.

 

When I was sick, she would set up a tv in my room and let me watch bad daytime tv all day. And she let me do that even when I wasn't all that sick.

 

Once I wanted to watch an episode of General Hospital really badly, and she let me hand in an excuse to miss my last class of the day. This said understanding that my Mom didn't let me make bad grades. She probably wouldn't have let me do either of the above if I took advantage.

 

She has always been adoring of my DH and my children, and of me. I always know she will be happy to see me, appreciate anything I do for her, and tell me how great I am. My BIL actually instituted a rule that if we cook something for her, she can only tell us how wonderful it is THREE times. We needed limits:) She has never criticized my DH in my hearing. She only says positive things about my children, although the other day I wore a new skirt and she told me I looked like I was wearing a table cloth, lol. And recently she went shopping with me and I fell in love with a brown dress but then didn't buy it because she said I looked like a UPS driver.

 

Love my Mom.

 

Edited to add that I lost my father a year ago to a long and dreadful illness, and I really sympathize with the array of emotions you are probably experiencing. It's really really hard. Hang in there and be gentle with yourself.

Edited by Danestress
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Oh, Crissy --:grouphug::grouphug::grouphug: -- Thoughts and prayers are with you.

 

I don't even know if I will hit send when I finish this b/c I have no idea where I am going with this.

 

This has been a difficult week for my mom yet an excellent week for my mom and me and I cannot even remember us having an excellent week in such a long time. My mom was always strong and outspoken, but when my dad passed away (20 years ago), the wind came right out of her sails. I think that she was that way when he was alive b/c he was always there for her -- he was kind, patient, and gave her the world. I guess that she was able to be blustery and bold b/c at the end of the day, she had my dad to hide behind.

 

Anyway, when he died, she became a shell of her former self. She moved in with my sister (sold her home and moved 175 miles from where she had lived all her life) (I tell all about it on the thread I have going right now) and for the most part, she lost contact with friends, stopped doing all the stuff she loved to do, and began doing more and more and more for my sister and my sister's young family.

 

When my nieces were finally getting to an age when my mom was getting her freedom back and she was making inroads as far as having friends and activities, my sister and her husband announced they were adopting a baby from China - and 18 months later, my mom found herself taking care of a 6 month old baby girl. (mom needed to achieve escape velocity in that 18 month period when the paper work was being filed :glare:)

 

My niece is 9 now, my mom is her primary caregiver -- there is no other way to describe it. My mom has voiced her unhappiness about her lack of a 'life' frequently, but is either afraid to do anything or doesn't know what to do. She comes up with ideas, but doesn't act on them. Then, she is upset with herself for not acting on them, missing opportunities, and I see that she is caught in a cycle of frustration.

 

I've watched all this and I have realized that the whole time I was growing up, she was unable to teach me how to make decisions because she did not know how to make decisions -- I have been angry at her for so many years (I guess this is the point of my writing this post) because there were so many times in my young life when I wanted to do this or that, and she would flat out say NO, and that was the end of it. OR, she would say NO, and I would rebel and do something that turned out to be incredibly foolish with long term consequences. I missed so many opportunities that, in retrospect, would have been wonderful for me. And, as I said, a few years ago, as I faced all of this, I was filled with anger towards her.

 

I dealt with the anger simply by limiting my phone conversations with her (we live three hours away). At one time we talked every day, and I cut the phone conversations to maybe two a month.....a big difference. My family and I would go and visit, everything would be fine (on the surface), but we would leave, and I basically wouldn't care if we didn't go back for a year. I was THAT angry.

 

Well, this past week, my mom fractured her ankle - a nasty fracture in three places, -- and she had surgery on Tuesday afternoon. I drove up, and intended to stay with her in her hospital room till she was discharged.

 

I got to see and spend three days with a 77 yr old woman who is scared, lonely, indecisive, crying, sad..........and the anger in me didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered on Wednesday afternoon when she started crying as I sat on the edge of her bed, and she cried that she didn't know what to do but she knew she couldn't go back to my sister's house and do all the work she had been doing.........the only thing that mattered to me was to comfort her and share with her, teach her the decision making steps that for so long I had been angry with her for not teaching me. I did begin, though, my saying to her through my tears: 'Crap, mom. I hate when people cry. I wish you wouldn't cry.' And, we both laughed. And, probably for the first time in my life, we talked. I explained to her what to do so she could begin to identify the issues that she needed to address. And we spent the afternoon doing that.

 

I am so glad I was there for her. I cannot imagine how her panic and fear would have been even more awful for her if I had not been there. And, I was so sad for her -- so sad that she was sad. But, she was so relieved that she had taken some control back.

 

I feel sad that I spent so much time the past 3 years being angry with her -- but my feelings are my feelings and what happened is in the past, and now I will deal with the present. I am relieved that I dealt with my anger myself and never lashed out at her or told her what I was so angry about.

 

I'm glad that she and I are on better footing now. I am so thankful that I spent three days with her and so much good was accomplished - I am so mad at myself right right this minute that by the time I remembered to call her tonight (she is in a rehab facility) she was already asleep and I will have to wait to talk to her till tomorrow. I am glad I spoke with her this morning and made sure that I gave her new phone number to my aunt so the two of them could talk -- they usually speak 3 or 4 times a day -- my aunt is 85.

 

On Wednesday night when I needed someone to talk to about the day I had spent with my mother, I was so sad that the person I wanted to tell about it was my mother, but she was already asleep, and we had been talking all day - but I needed to talk to her......to tell her what had happened - even thought it was between her and me -- so odd.:001_huh: It didn't make any sense except that I know I will hate it when I cannot talk to her any longer.

 

Be kind to yourself, your feelings are your feelings.:grouphug:

Edited by MariannNOVA
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My mom was widowed young...my brother was 8, I was 5 and she was preggo with my baby sister. She put herself through nursing school. We stayed with grandma and grandpa lots (which was fun). I remember her crying from the pressure of it all. We ate fast food most nights, and on the rare nights she cooked we knew dinner was ready when the smoke alarms went off.:lol: We always had dishes and laundry piled miles high...my siblings and I rate levels of cleanliness by our former address (The show Hoarders is only a few levels worse.) My house has never been "that" bad...

 

But...she always came home after work, always kept food on the table, always clothed us well (though we learned to do laundry YOUNG if we wanted clean clothes LOL), took us on vacations, and made wonderful holiday memories. She never quit. She sacrificed more than I know.

 

She remarried after the 3 of us were grown, and is a doting grandma. Incidentally, she bought a new house with a fancy kitchen...the woman still sets off the fire alarms, but she does it in style...:lol::lol::lol:

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My mother and I are opposites to an extreme. So, even if she gives me a compliment, there is always a backhanded angle to it. ie "You look much better now that your butt is bigger". (I had gained 20lbs due to an injury and subsequent activity loss) LOL

 

When I told here I was going to homeschool, I got one of the very few true compliments I have ever received from her.... and one of the nicest things any single person has ever said to me.

 

 

"If anyone can do it, you can". She has always been very supportive of our journey.

 

There was so much wrapped into that simple sentence.

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:grouphug:

 

My mother and I didn't have a great relationship until I moved out - we're both very stubborn and alike in all the wrong ways (lol!). Once I moved out thought I discovered that I could be *friends* with my mom. When I was first dating my DH she was absolutely terrified because he was an older man (he's got almost 13 years on me - I was 18 and he was 31) that I had met on the internet. She was sure that he was going to drag me into some back ally, take advantage of me and then kill me. My dad met my DH before my mom did and was pleasantly surprised (he had about the same feelings as her), so when he flew out to meet the whole family and go on a short vacation with us about 8 months after we started dating I could just tell that my mom was just *dying*. Even though she knew my dad approved and that I loved him and that I intended to marry him, part of her just could not get past those early opinions she had formed of him.

 

She refused to come to the airport to pick him up, instead she stayed at home, worried, cleaned (some more, lol), and cried over baby pictures of me. Of course, having observed my mom get increasingly panicky/hysterical over DH's impending visit in the previous weeks, I was more than a bit nervous about bringing DH (then boyfriend) home. Instead, when we got home she (seemingly) very calmly walked up to him and welcomed him with a big hug and "Welcome to our home. Jessica has told us so many wonderful things about you. You must be a very special person and I can't wait to get to know you better."

 

I was stunned. I could see, even as she walked up to him, just how nervous she still was. But she took him in and made sure he felt loved and at home - and by the end of the evening it wasn't just a brave face. (Seriously, I think my family would die if I ever got rid of DH - not that I would - they *adore* him!).

 

It touched me so very, very much to watch her put away all her misgivings and fears and be warm and welcoming just because she knew that this strange man was someone very special to me.

Edited by theAmbitiousHousewife
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I'm sorry about your mom. My mother and I have had wicked arguments in our day, but my mother is is a huge support. She is so proud we are hsing, and she always tells me what a wonderful mother I am. My mother can be an odd duck at times, but I have never doubted her love.

Edited by LibraryLover
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My mother has always had a way of making me feel like I'm just not a very good person. I honestly don't think she likes me very much (although I know she loves me) and yet still, at almost 40, I find myself doing things just to please her.

 

There is one thing I have always remembered, though, particularly in stressful times with my own girls. When I was little I used to get the most horrendous ear aches. I can still recall the excruciating pain all these years later. And I also remember my mom, who worked full time, holding me, pacing the hall, rubbing my back and caressing may hair, sometimes singing. I remember thinking that she must be very tired, knowing that she had to be up in just a few hours to go to work, and feeling like I should just suck it up so she could go to bed, but so so grateful that she was there to comfort me.

 

Relationships with parents can be so incredibly complicated. I love my mother. I often wish our relationship were different than what it is, but I'm incredibly grateful to have her still.

 

:grouphug: to you.

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My mom is great, but she can be very hard and stubborn. I remember one special moment between us though when I was just barely 13. We were visiting a relative in a small town for the 4th of July. The town was celebrating its centennial and we spent the day having hot dogs and soda and shooting off some roman candles while listening to a local high school band. After dark we settled by the lake to watch the big fireworks display. It was cold and she put her arms around me and we watched the fireworks together like that. I remember it because I was almost too big for that sort of thing and it was the last time I really remember feeling like a little girl.

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My mom died suddenly of a heart attack when she was 58 and I was only 24.

 

Both of my mom's parents died within six months of each other when she was 16 or 17. She never finished high school. Thirty-four years later, the same year I graduated from high school, she studied and passed her GED. That was huge, and we were so proud of her.

 

I have other warm memories of my mom, but I can't seem to put them down in a way to do her justice. I will just say I always knew that she loved me, and all the kids in her life. I'm so sorry she never got to meet my husband or love on her grandchildren. I'm sure if she were still alive she would have taught me how to be a better mom because I feel like I fall so short in comparison.

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:grouphug:

 

When I was little, my birthday fell in the first week of school. Every other child, the rest of the year, brought in a bag of tootsie pops. My mother (who didn't like baking sweets) made cupcakes, and, after lunch, my father would show up and distribute them with a candle in each, and go around the class and light them. I felt like the most beloved child on earth.

 

She knitted us all sweaters and ponchos and Christmas stockings. When she was just ancient, she altered mine and put my son's name in, as she was too feeble to make him one. She took care of Papa when he was old, old, old, despite her compression fractures and vertigo. She told me my son, born when she was in her 80s, was the light of her old age, and not seeing him grow up was her only regret in life.

 

She loved antiques and bird feeders and cats and gardening. I knew she was going to die when she didn't put in a garden that last spring. Our house was beautiful and spotless and she cooked everything from scratch. She had funny phrases, like calling the plastic around 6-packs of cans "hog brassieres" or b@@ks "lungwarts" or b@@ks of fat men "Daddaries". She was a work-a-holic, yet laughed until she was speechless and tipping over in her chair. Papa was the sugar, and she was the spice.

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I'm so sorry :grouphug:

Thank you for this thread, it has made me search to find one good story which was a bit of a struggle because my mother and I have never been close. There was no interest in my schooling as a child except one time and that has stayed with me as a positive memory of my mother. I was 8 and we were to have learned all of our mutliplication tables through 9 for a test, but without the help at home I was clueless and ashamed. I was crying in my room one afternoon and my mother heard me and asked what was wrong. After telling her about the test, she come up with the idea to sing the multiplication tables to me (our poor relationship was in part due to my her over-involvement in a competetive chorus). She sang them over and over for the rest of the day and the next morning. I passed the test.

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My mom is a practical woman, who had a critical father and a pretty cold mom, both German immigrants who wanted only good for their 2 girls, but sometimes were not the softest-hearted parents. Growing up in an alcoholic home is difficult at best, and shame and a critical spirit are often the legacy. So, it's no surprise to me that Mom can be harsh, tho she really never means to be. She is a black and white thinker who feels her responsibilities and obligations keenly, and is never quite good enough in her own mind.

 

That said, there are special, quiet, almost secret things about her--She loves the blue skies of New Hampshire. She gives of herself easily--She worries about $, and fears poverty, but always tries to give us $ to fix what she sees as difficulties.

 

My brother had to leave his home in WI to live in Pittsburgh about 7 years ago, in order to be ready to have a lung transplant when the opportunity came. His wife felt she couldn't leave her job as a therapist, so my mom moved to Pitt to be with my brother (who was on oxygen and needed caretaking). She left my dad and just up and moved. It wasn't because she wanted to leave Dad! She just knew her son needed her, and went. I saw a letter from her to Dad written at that time, that he had kept and put up on his desk--Part of it said, "I knew the moment we met, you were the love of my life." My dad often writes poetry to us, but my mom has more poetry in her little finger than anyone I know! And she really doesn't believe it.

 

My parents love each other. Tremendously. I even wrote them a song for their 50th--part of it went,

 

She knew it the moment they met

He'd be the love of her life

He put the light in her snapping brown eyes

The day she became his wife

 

The first time that he saw her face

He knew she was the one

She made a home for his traveler's heart

He found his peace in her arms.

 

They still hold hands

He still asks her for a slow dance

At night when he rests, he feels doubly blessed

To walk in the Truth with the wife of his youth

They still hold hands.

 

Now she can hardly walk, and my dad, whom she's served for so many years, has to help her take her shoes and socks off, get out of the shower, and so on. It is a beautiful picture to me, him finally serving her.

 

So, all to say, my mom is dear to me, and I have learned so much from her, but the most lovely lesson is what she taught me about marriage, and loving your children. I know we are so dear to her. When my brother (my other, older brother) died from cancer, she was there, too--holding vigil, holding on--My sil accused her of not knowing him--how sad. He was her heart, you see--he grew beneath it, and remained in it all his days; she knew him better than anyone, even if she wasn't in on all the latest of his life--

 

I'm so sorry your mom is ill. I hope hearing about the complicated but tender bond between me and my mom is somehow helpful. I know I don't have a ton of time left with mine--she is getting up there, as they say, and it makes me more forgiving, and more tolerant, and I hope more loving towards her.

Edited by Chris in VA
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I'm truly sorry about your mom :grouphug:.

 

My mom is fading. She's 75 and Parkinson's and Sjogren's are affecting her strongly now. Her short term memory is shot and it is now difficult to carry on conversations with her.

 

She always drove a car with V8, usually a Cadillac, "in case she needed to get out of a situation." She drove me to music lessons on a motorcycle. She would stop the car in the middle of the road if you swore. She says "warsh" instead of "wash". She grew up in an abusive home with an alcoholic father who held a gun to her mother's head and threatened to "kill 'em all" after a bender. She rarely talks about her childhood. It's no wonder. Last week I told her to find her old, saved ration stamps and the calendar where they got to stamp out Mussolini's face to show the kids for their WWII studies. I told her early, because I knew she'd forget. She drove 120 miles round trip to get coffee with me in the middle of the night because I was homesick at college.

 

Thank you for making me think about her.

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My mother was only 15 when I was born. [insert long story]. My mother was artsy and creative and intelligent and inquisitve and adventuresome, but as a homemaker and a mother...well, probably she should have been an artist instead of having four dc, bless her heart.

 

When I was 18 I married someone, and in time we moved to Las Vegas. He turned out to be an abuser. :glare: We separated after a couple of years; I tried not to tell my mother and grandmother, but there came a day when I couldn't bear it any longer, and I called my mother, who at that time was living in Tennessee. She took her rent money and my little 18mo brother and flew out to Vegas. All I could do when she got off the plane was to lay my head on her shoulder and cry. For the next few days she tried to...I don't know what...with my x. He was having none of it [insert another long story]. I flew back to Tennessee with her, then to Virginia to stay with my grandparents. The x and I were divorced a few months later.

 

In the course of time I met Mr. Ellie and we married and had our dds, and my mother became one of my best friends.

 

She's been gone for 12 years now. I miss her daily.

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Oh my goodness. I've been sitting with my boys for a while and came back here to read your stories before I go to bed.

Thank you all so much for sharing your mothers with me tonight. It is comforting, it assuages some of my guilt and it brings me joy to read your notes.

Thank you!

:grouphug:

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I'm so sorry!:grouphug:

 

One of my best memories is of church on Sundays. I would lay my head in her lap and "play" with her hands and rings. I memorized her hands and I now know I have her hands. It so weird because I see her growing older and changing but her hands look almost the same. Weird.

 

I also know how much better she made me feel when I was sick by just being in the same room as me. The first time I was sick after I moved away was so hard. I called her up just to let her know I was sick and to hear her voice.

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My mother's another tough nut to crack. She was (is) a perfectionist and always expected my sister and I to live up to her expectations. The house was ALWAYS spotless, she ALWAYS had a hot breakfast ready, and she never understood how I, as a tomboy, could handle being outside from dawn till dusk on my bike and live in my pigsty of a room.

 

However, when I was 17, I met the man who is now my husband. We had been dating for a little over two months (I turned 18 in the middle of this) when we decided to get married, for immigration purposes. The day that DH and I came home to tell my parents that we had decided to get married, my father was out on our back porch cleaning out his black-powder rifle. DH and I presented our plan to my mother, who listened calmly, asked a few questions, and then asked if we wanted her to tell my father (to which I agreed). She never showed how disappointed and angry she was that I wasn't planning to go to college and that I was getting married to a penniless man who had no place to live, no car, and no future in the USA unless he married me. I never saw the tears that she had to have shed. She only ever supported me and DH as we made our plans and got married. She even got my dad to keep his mouth shut, which was no small feat. No matter how I perceive her parenting skills, I can't argue that her sacrifice in this matter was beyond compare. I simply can't imagine doing the same for my own daughter.

 

Thanks for making me think about this... and I'm crying reading all the others!

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My mom was dead set against me home homeschooling.

1. Because my grammar was atrocious. It was, I was beyond horrible with sentence structure.

2. The dreaded socialization myth the media and others continue to speak over and over.

 

 

This Monday-my mom and dad are driving :auto:2 hours north to stay the evening and then take my us to a bird sanctuary, to teach how to do bird watching. The kind you photograph, draw and then register your counts officially.

They are going to help us dissect the 15 owl pellets we have in a box. My mom is beyond excited.

She says the best part of me homeschooling, is that I don't end my sentences with prepositions!

She loves me, and my dad, and was the best example to me. I love my mom, and as I grow older and love her more, her friendship is more and more coveted.

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Wow. You couldn't have posted this at a better time for me. I have really been struggling with feelings of anger and frustration with my own mother's situation (a post in itself, sigh), and the loss of her mentally while she is still alive. Reading all these stories has allowed me to let go a bit and enjoy reminising about the good times with my own mama. Thanks Crissy. Sending you love and hugs as you endure.

 

My mom was frugal yet creative. She loved the natural world and did her best to impart that to us, whether it was forcing us to sit next to her in the garden with our bare hands in the warm earth watching worms; or showing us how to whittle and helping us to create an amazing little town under a pine tree- all the buildings, fences, and cows carved out of scrap wood.

 

She would tell us the stars were ours, and that the lights across the water in Seattle were blinking hello to us. And God had painted the sunset especially for me because he knew I liked bright colours.

 

She painted and drew, and was an amazing woodworker. She tried every crafty fad there was, and succeeded at all of them. She walked the beach and collected shells, floats, and driftwood up to the day I was born. She told me I was an amazing artist and loved to sit and watch me paint, even after losing her eyesight.

 

She told me I could do anything I wanted to as long as I put my mind to it.

 

These are some of the good things I am remembering tonight. Thanks so much for this thread.

LB

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I am losing mine. She is tough and stubborn, and she could hang on for a bit longer.

But...

I am feeling guilty that I've been angry at points during this long illness.

 

Tonight is difficult and I am reminiscing.

Will you share with me?

 

:grouphug: Crissy. The long haul is the toughest one. I lost my mother 17 years ago.

 

When my mother was dying, I stayed overnight with her at the hospice on her last day conscious. We talked a lot. I was kind of trying not to be too emotional -- for her sake -- but I slipped and told her I didn't know how I was going to live without her. She laughed, in that way she had, and told me I was full of sappy bullsh*t. It made me laugh, too. And then she was kind of serious and she said "you'll be fine. I didn't raise weaklings or fools."

 

And then we talked some more about it. I told her something I had never ever, ever told another breathing soul in my whole life. I told her that I secretly dreamed of marrying a farmer and living out my life in a quiet little corner of the country near a quaint little town. I said, "like I'm ever going to meet a farmer!" (I always lived in huge metropolitan areas -- so this was a rather far-fetched idea). My mother told me she figured that. She knew I never really like city life much and I was happiest when out at my dad's family farm.

 

And she took my hands. I remember staring hard at the tubes all over her hands and arms trying very hard not to lose it. She said, "I promise you it will happen."

 

This was the last thing she said to me, other than to say she was so tired. We slept. She never woke up again. She died 3 days later.

 

When I met my (now) husband, I knew there was something ... more ... to it. So, I married the farmer of my dreams. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my mother. Death be d*mned, that woman kept her promises.

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From my earliest memories my mom had a sweet smile, sparkling eyes and was very loving. She was the kind of mom that didn't hide anything... was open and honest. We always knew we could tell her anything and no matter what would happen in life, she'd always love us. No matter what.

 

I loved curling up on the couch next to her to watch Little House on the Prairie. She cried over nearly every episode!

 

She was a crafty person... crochet, knit, sew, cross stitch. She passed that on to me.

 

We have some very, very funny memories! One of my favorites is just hysterical (to me, anyway). She called me on the phone. She lived in Arkansas and I lived in Alaska. She tells me, "Oh, my goodness! I gave my truck away today!" She goes on to tell me that she had gone shopping, came out with the cart, put the cart in front of the truck, unloaded the cart, got inside the truck and forgot about the cart. She drove forward and pushed the cart out into the parking lot and it nearly hit another car. She said that she didn't need to be driving if she was going to do such things. And she gave her truck away! BUT, later that week I went to the store. I had two of my daughters with me and I was pushing the cart out to our suburban. I started giggling, telling them about the funny thing grandma had done the previous week. As I am telling them I put the cart in front of the suburban, unload it and climb inside, laughing about the end of the story... and, yep, you guessed it... I started my vehicle and pulled forward, sending the cart across the lot. (no one was hurt... no vehicle was damaged... and my sincere apologies go out to those who are very particular about putting their carts back in parking lots) My girls and I laugh to this day over this....

 

I love that sometimes my phone rings, I pick it up and hear her voice calling out, "Good morning, sunshine!"

 

Next month I will have surgery and have to lay down for a week... My mom will be here for a couple of weeks to help. I am so thankful.

 

I cannot bear to think of her passing. I know that her time will come. It's just too difficult to accept even now.

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Crissy, :grouphug::grouphug:

 

My mom is awesome. I saw her and my dad just yesterday. We were 900 miles away for five years and recently moved to within 30 minutes. She loves it. She claims 1/2 ownership of my son because she prayed for me and my dh to have a child and he was born on her birthday.

 

They have a special bond, he lights up when you talk about her. He's miserable if he has to celebrate a birthday without her. They adore each other and share frequent hugs. Since I grew up without a real relationship with any grandparent, we've encouraged this bonding. We've told him that he has full reign to use her as a confidante if there are ever things he doesn't want to discuss with us.

 

I think back through my teen years and all the ways I've been bitter about really silly things and the times I got in trouble and the things I'd like to change. I'm willing to overlook all of it so my son can have a good relationship with my parents.

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:grouphug: I lost my mom to lung cancer a little over four and a half years ago. She was 73. She never smoked but had worked in second hand smoke for many years. Today is the first day in a long while that I have actually sobbed over missing her. It feels good, actually, to think about her like this. So, thank you for asking.

 

We sometimes had a difficult relationship over the years. But I loved her and I knew she loved me. She was a simple person who really didn't want or expect much. She loved her children but was sometimes hard on us, was a hard worker, very industrious. She was a practical woman, and she was very concerned that we all ate good food (things like liver and green beans and vegetable soup). She used to invite our school teachers over for lunch once a year or so--we went to a school that sent us home for lunch.

 

She had a difficult life herself. She came to this country from Europe after WWII--she suffered a lot in the war. I have a letter she wrote to her aunt on the way over on the boat. She felt like flinging herself overboard because she did not want to leave her home. She was devastated to leave behind what she knew I think. She was in her early twenties. I have wondered at times if she was leaving behind a man she cared about. But she came to love it here I think. She married my dad when she was over 30, and it was a rocky marriage. She deserved better than she often got I think, but to the end, she loved my dad and stood by him.

 

She watched my girls quite a bit in the years before she died. I am so grateful for that now! She used to flip through pages of People Magazine and other celebrity type magazines with my now 14 yo.

 

When she was dying, she was so brave and even so funny. She was not afraid to die. She was satisfied with her life and said she had no regrets. She only lived for less than two weeks after we found out she was sick. She had been sick before that but they did not know what was wrong. While she was sick, I had come down with a terrible flu. I had asked her to make me chicken soup. She did that for me. She brought it over, but I was at the doctor's. I came home, and it was waiting for me. When I think of how hard it must have been for her to make that soup for me as sick as she was, it breaks my heart. I had no idea how sick she was. We were all with her when she died. It feels like yesterday right now. I miss her terribly. There's nothing like a mother.

Edited by Violet
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My Mom always cried when she spanked us and always held us tightly afterward. She very rarely disciplined us and we were good kids anyway. One day though, she had had enough of our bickering and fighting. My cousin was over and it was out of control. After she had warned us many times, she grabbed the first thing she could find which happened to be a fly swatter and ran to us leaping over the vacuum cleaner in the process. She didn't actually spank us because we were at first mortified and then all had a good laugh.

 

On the softer side, she taught us how to paint in oil and acrylic, how to do some woodworking, how to draw, and how to sculpt. She always listened to us (for hours if necessary) and showed much affection. She is my best friend and my greatest advocate in anything I do in life.

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:grouphug: I'm sorry you are going through this...it's hard.

 

Soemthing I've been doing on my blog is writing the Barbara Stories. They are stories that I remember about my mom, or that I remember her telling me about (she was a character!)

 

http://wearefollowinghimhome.blogspot.com/search/label/Barbara%20Stories

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I grew up believing my mom could fix anything. I have vivid memories of getting really upset abut a poster contest, where I messed up my drawing right at the end. But of course, Mom could tell me how to fix it and it looked better than before. If I lost something Mom could always find it. If I needed something she could always get it for me.

 

I love my Mom.

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I am so sorry that you are going through this. :grouphug:

 

My mother certainly has had her faults but she has a great capacity to love. My parents divorced when I was 4 as my Dad was an abusive alcoholic. She however never bad-mouthed him to us and I know is the only reason we were all able to repair our relationship with him as adults. When he was diagnosed with cancer last year and he was very ill and alone, my Mom welcomed him into her home and along with my sister cared for him in his last days. She even cooked what turned out to be his last meal for him which consisted of his favorites. In the hospital that night, she stayed right there in the room with us and was with her children as Dad passed. Her love and support that night is something that I will never forget when none of us would have thought less of her for not being there given the history.

 

Another memory from my childhood is that Mom always woke up early to get house stuff done before she went to work. She always sang when she was doing that so my most comforting memories are being snug in my bed in the morning while Mom was singing in the kitchen.

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Crissy,

 

I hope these stories are what you needed right now. I want to thank you for posting. Posting my story has really brought up some memories. Some good that make me smile. Some not so good that make me learn. :)

:grouphug:

 

Nakia--they are. They really are just what I need.

 

I am so grateful to each of you for offering your memories.

Thank you all so much!

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I lost my mom 19 months ago...I think of her every day and miss her so much it hurts.

 

When I was 28 and pregnant, dh and I moved from IN to FL. We bought a house when I was 8 months along and HUGE. When we took possession, it was really dirty, and I called Mom in a panic, sobbing. My parents got in a car that same evening and pulled up at our home two days later. Mom spent the next two weeks cleaning and painting; then she came back six weeks later just in time for the baby and helped me for 6 weeks. I did nothing but baby for all that time. It was a wonderful gift!

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