When I was growing up my mama was always around. She was everywhere. I’m sure she got some alone time but with 3 kids under 5 she kept pretty busy. At the time she did not work outside of the home so her job was to raise us into the people we were supposed to become. She raised us with lots of love, lots of discipline, lots of faith, and sometimes a flyswatter or hairbrush to boot. There was a time when Daddy worked two jobs so Mama was home with us alone quite a bit. I don’t think our life was much different than anyone else we hung out with or were in our inner-circle, so I never questioned how we were being raised. I thought everyone was being raised that way.
We were also raised to contribute to our household. We had chores, although when we were younger I’m sure those chores were simple. I do know that Mama cleaned our house up one side and down the other every single day. I know that she swept the kitchen floor twice a day and mopped it once a day. I’m sure that we could have eaten off of the floor and never given it a second glance. I know that we took it for granted, just assumed everyone’s house looked like that and that everybody’s mama stayed home with them. I knew that wasn’t true because some of Mom’s friends did work, just not many of them. Mom had worked before she married but when she married and started having babies she stayed at home. We were lucky, very lucky.
Most of the fighting I remember doing was either because we were all over-tired (including Mom) or because my brother or sister took one of my toys, or as we got older, my sister thought she was the boss and told us what to do even though we knew what to do. When Mom did go back to work (she worked one day a week at Liberty National Bank until we went to high school and then she worked two days a week) our chores increased. We had to do laundry and get supper started. I can remember my sister bossing my brother and me because we didn’t want to get right on our chores when we got home from school. We wanted to play with our friends or I wanted to watch TV. But if we didn’t do what we were supposed to do then I remember Mom being called at work and if she wasn’t with a customer then we would all get bawled out. One by one, and one of us usually ended up crying into the phone about how unfair it was or how mean my sister was, or it was unfair that my brother didn’t have to do any laundry because he was a boy. If Mom was with a customer then we really got bawled out when she got home for calling her at work.
And, we knew that we would really be in trouble when she got home. Mom didn’t use the phrase “wait until your father gets home” very often. We were much more afraid of her getting home and being mad at us. The reason, you ask? Because if Mom got mad enough, she would cry. And I’ll tell you what, I got to the point where I would rather be beat half to death with a hair brush or a flyswatter than to make Mama cry. If you made her cry then your life was as good as over.
I remember that I was particularly good at making Mama cry. I don’t know what it was but I would say things that would just set her off. I think I thought I was funny but in reality I was anything but. And, I didn’t consider her frustrations or her feelings or her emotions. I said what I thought when I thought it. We were never reprimanded for speaking our minds but we quickly learned there were consequences if we said something that hurt. Honestly, I don’t remember the things that I said. I do though remember how I felt after I saw how she felt from what I had said. I felt like a whipped puppy. I would stick my tail in between my legs and almost crawl out of the room. And I knew that it would last quite some time. I knew that as well as I sit here in front of this keyboard writing this. There were times that I knew what the reaction was going to be before the words left my mouth. That never really stopped me though because I have always had the problem of speaking before I thought. If I had thought I would have never said three-fourths of what has come out of my mouth throughout my life.
My mother would do anything for us. She would feed us, clothe us, love us unconditionally. If we wanted something she would make sure we got it. It didn’t matter if she had the money or not. I remember her handing me her last five dollars for the week on a Wednesday because I needed gas. I never considered that she would need the money. If she had it didn’t matter to her. She would rather do without than to see me wanting anything. When I got older I told her it was okay to be selfish and she about slapped my face. She knew it wasn’t okay as much as I knew that it was just fine. I didn’t understand that the minute you become a parent you start thinking of your children, only. I know that Mom worried about my dad. I know that she worried about how the bills were going to get paid. But I will say this, we never lacked a thing. We went to the best schools. We all had a car when we turned 16. It might have been a $300 junker but by gosh, we had a car. My sister and I went to Costa Rica for a summer and both of us went to Europe. I went to Sweden. When our birthday came around we got whatever we wanted. We knew that Mom and Dad didn’t have all that much money but it didn’t matter. Mom, and I’m sure Dad, would do without just so we could have what we wanted. They wanted us to be happy and they loved us so much. We were their riches.
My life changed the minute I became a mother. I was still selfish but the responsibility of raising a child changed me so much. It took me a lot longer to figure out that I would literally give anything for my children. It didn’t matter. I don’t think I have been as giving as she was but I think I would do anything in the world for my children to be happy. Anything. I love them unconditionally and will continue to love them no matter what. But I remember the times too that they have made me cry.
My oldest was always embarrassed by me. I don’t blame him. My mother embarrassed me to death. We would be walking at the mall when I was a teenager and she would take my hand. Can you imagine? I can remember pushing her hand away. What I would give now to be able to hold her hand just one more time. It’s pretty funny that as I type this now I feel her taking my hands. I like it when that happens. But I am sure that I embarrassed that boy way more than was required. There were a couple of times though that he told me to shut up or something like that and I can remember just leaving the room and going to cry. I’m sure that all of my children have made me cry. In fact, this morning, my youngest son said something to me that made me cry. I didn’t want to because I was getting ready to go to church and knew that I would cry all the way through Mass. But he did, and I did. And that’s what sparked this little tirade. I came to the realization 32 years after my mother’s death that I had hurt her unbearably in her life. I wasn’t a bad kid. I did what I was told (when it was convenient). But I hurt her and I made her cry. I’m so sorry Mama. I wish I could take it all back. I know that you always said it was all right whenever I did apologize, which wasn’t often. Maybe at the time it was all right but I should never have treated you like that. You were the first person to love me above everything and I just took it for granted.
I ask that if your parents are still living to consider this. It’s easy when we’re over-tired, or frustrated, or think we’re funny, to snap at those we love. I ask you not to. I ask that you love those people more than you thought you had in you. And if you have hurt them to ask them to forgive you. Don’t assume they will (even though they probably already have). There’s something cathartic about asking and receiving their forgiveness. It’ll do you a world of good.
I’m sorry I hurt you Mama, and Daddy too. Please forgive me. I love you.
