Mom

The past couple of months, I have corresponded with three very special women who each have had to care for their moms - each mother in a different stage of life. These ladies live in different parts of the country, nonetheless, their concerns and needs are similar. Two moms have been very ill and both daughters have struggled getting them the care their mothers need. They all three worry about fulfilling their mom's needs, of being there by their mom's side and one has been separated by bad weather recently. One friend is struggling and concerned with her own health and elevated blood pressure, while the other's time is also shared watching grandchildren during the week. One friend worries because her mom isn't entirely happy with her environment. We all eventually have to face the fact our parents they are not who they were only years ago and we are faced with the reality of being the one in charge - the reality of reversed roles.

My mom died in 1986, I didn't have the responsibility to care for her although I was able to visit with her a couple of times before she died - we lived in Kentucky and she and dad lived in Vegas. It may sound awful to say, but I do envy those daughters who can care for their mothers in their old age. I do pray for each of those special friends who are caring for their moms because it is a special task which requires a lot of commitment and caring. My mom was wonderful, she was my very best friend forever. I trusted her indefinitely, she had the best sense of humor - was so much fun to be around. I learned so much from her, she was kind, and honest and genuine. She love my children and did not worry about housework when the kids were around - they got her full attention, and they did simple things together like walking across the field on the farm and sitting on a log and feed the neighbor's horse or just talk about the birds or some silly thing.

Mom use to say this poem, and I can hear her voice and see her face as I read it - - - -

A Poem to Me Mudder

When me prayers were poorly said, Who tucked me in me bed,

And spanked me till me butt was red? Me Mudder.

Who took me from me cozy cot, And put me on me ice cold pot, And made me pee-pee if me could not? Me Mudder.

And when the morning light would come, And in me crib me dribble some, Who wipe me tiny widdle bum? Me Mudder.

Who would me hair so gently part, And hug me gently to her heart, And sometimes squeeze me till me fart? Me Mudder.

Who looked at me with eyebrows knit, And nearly had a king sized fit, When in my Sunday clothes me shit? Me Mudder.

When at night the bed did sqeak, Me raised me head to have a peek, Who yelled at me to go to sleep? Me Fadder.

This photo was taken Christmas 1975 - my mom, Helen, my daughter Suzanne, and me.