On this day set aside to honor those who brought us into the world, wiped our butt countless times, and gave us more love, attention, and mind share than perhaps we may have deserved, let me ramble briefly on my own mom.
I grew up in a rural farm area. Among mom's roles, she was a freelance writer. I remember taking swimming lessons in town during the summer, and mom would take her portable typewriter with her to the pool so she could work on a magazine article or one of her stories. Many times, she would pack picnic lunches for us, and drive us to the fields on the other side of town. She would then drive tractor, plowing or pulling the roller harrow while my brother and I played at the ends of the field, chasing bugs, climbing trees, digging in the dirt and mud, or riding our bicycles.
We weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination. I was in high school before I had a pair of pants that wasn't hand-me-down or second-hand, and I was in college before anyone else cut my hair. Mom could stretch a buck farther than you could imagine. I never felt like we were poor or deprived -- that's just the way things were.
Others have written recently about their free-wheeling childhood. When I was in 4th grade, we moved to the other side of town to consolidate our farmland into one unit. My parents gave my brother and I each a wristwatch and made sure we knew how to tell time. The rules were pretty simple: "lunch is at noon, dinner is at 6, for every 5 minutes you are late, you are grounded a day". There were obvious exceptions for calling ahead, or arrangements to be elsewhere.
Motherhood is a job that never ends. I called her today to wish her well. While on the phone, I coughed, and she immediately inquired as to my health. Shortly thereafter she was providing her opinion on which laundry detergent I shouldn't be using.
Moms -- truly amazing people...
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