Boss Mom

Boss Mom

My Mom is love in action. Verbs were her thing.

She (and my dad) raised eight kids. All eight of us agree they were the perfect parents for us. We may not share all the same memories but we all enjoyed many special ones. These are some of mine.

Sewing. Mom did alterations for a local men’s store. I remember being recruited to do a little hemming myself. And for my efforts I received a whopping $.75 per pair of pants. She also made clothes for us. One year during middle school, she whipped up a bold orange-and-white-swirl patterned skirt for Maxi-Skirt Day. I wish I had a picture from that day or at least a swatch of that fabric! I also remember putting jeans on my Christmas list one year. I got a polyester “denim-looking” pantsuit instead. I wasn’t thrilled but if it’s the thought that counts, it was a winner. She also knits and crochets and has made and gifted thousands of scrubbies and dish cloths over the years.

Feeding us. Ensuring three meals a day - 365 days a year – takes some special skills. Cereal or toast for breakfast, sandwiches and chips for dinner during the summer, and supper of meat, potatoes, and vegetables for dinner, and snacks as needed. That’s a lot of meal prep! We never went hungry and, for the most part, we ate whatever was put in front of us. At suppertime we served ourselves from bowls and platters of potatoes, vegetables, and meat passed around the table - so if we took it, we better eat it. We all belonged to the clean plate club and there was never a need for a garbage disposal.

Baking and cooking. Not just all of those meals but also breads, birthday cakes, and a plethora of cookies. When I think about it, my mom must’ve spent at least 75% of her waking hours in the kitchen – and most of it standing.

Canning. Our pantry was crammed with jars of tomatoes, beans, and even meats. Canning was usually a summer job and with no air conditioning, the kitchen would get very steamy. Food for ten is never an easy feat but she defined “organized”. As I write this I am in awe of her because here I am - a single woman with only myself to feed – and I struggle.

Hostessing. Parties - times eight: eight birthdays a year, eight high school graduations, eight baptisms, eight confirmations. That’s almost a full-time event planner position in today’s market. Some times the polished silver was brought out and crudités were served. For birthdays, I remember mini paper cups filled with pastel pillow mints and roasted peanuts – still love that combo.

Assigning chores. One might imagine, with ten people in a small house, that the place would be a disaster. But it never was. Dishes were done after every meal; one person to wash and one person to dry and put away. Messes were promptly dealt with and on Saturday morning, the vacuum was going, shelves were dusted, floors were mopped and every room got a once-over. I was not one of the “oh, I can’t wait to clean” children but I do remember the satisfaction of scrubbing the kitchen/dining room floor while on my knees and being able to see the difference I made. To this day, I would rather clean when I can see the difference.

Washing, folding, ironing. Piles and piles of laundry. I don’t remember if she did laundry every day or not. I don’t know how she couldn’t - but those were different times. I remember doing a bit of ironing myself. My favorite thing to iron was Dad’s hankies; it doesn’t get much easier than that.

Shopping. All those meals, parties, clothes require some shopping. Now, shopping is one thing, but keeping within a budget is a whole other aspect that never occurred to me as a child. She was thrifty, organized, and she made it all look effortless.

Giving permission. Since Mom as there, she was usually the one we asked if we wanted to go somewhere or if we needed a ride. For many years, we had only one car. The little red Ford Falcon station wagon – purchased at a bargain – allowed her freedom (?) to drive us places. But mostly it meant she could run her errands and visit some garage sales while we were in school.

Tolerating outbursts. So I don’t recall any, but that’s just me not remembering. I’m sure she experienced this. I would ask her about it, but why dredge up unpleasant memories from decades ago? I just know that as a parent, it comes with the territory. Maybe tolerate is the wrong word and maybe I don’t remember because she didn’t tolerate them.

Keeping us safe and playing medic when stuff happened. I once managed to open a foot wound on a swing set screw. One of my brother’s broke his arm jumping off the same swing set. (That one required a doctor.) I’m sure, with eight kids, there were many more boo-boos but she took it all in stride. A little iodine and a Band-Aid were good enough for most of them. But there was also the regular physicals, dental cleanings, allergies, earaches, with a few hospital visits thrown in. Can you say “never a dull moment”?

Helping with Homework. Perhaps it wasn’t helping so much as ensuring we had what we needed to get it done. We had a full set of encyclopedias, lived kitty-corner from the library and we were encouraged to learn to our heart’s content.

Saving. A clear, cut-glass crystal bottle on my parent’s dresser served as a piggy bank and was for dimes only. Those little coins would help fund our next vacation. These vacations – or adventures as some might call them - involved a station wagon, a popup camper, and a lot of planning. We traveled to Florida, western Canada, and California – the last two because we had relatives who lived there. I remember watching that bottle as it filled up with dimes anticipating our next journey.

Playing cribbage and drinking beer with dad after getting the kids to bed – or mostly in bed (otherwise how would I know). Such a simple thing they shared. I have no idea how often they did this. In hindsight, once I saw it I just assumed this is what happened every night after I went to bed. I don’t recall why I was up, but they didn’t stop playing; they just told me to go back to bed and I did.

Dating Dad. My mom and dad celebrated their anniversary in style. Mom prepared for these dates with great care. Try finding a babysitter for that many kids. As you can imagine, they didn’t go on dates often (unless you count cribbage and beer as a date), but she would be looking fabulous when they did.

Piloting. As mentioned earlier, we traveled far and wide in our Vista Cruiser. Dad did all the driving, but Mom was the navigator and she worked with paper maps – no GPS back then. I don’t recall ever getting lost; although there was one time when a road ended, with nowhere to go but back the way we came. But we can’t blame Mom for that – at least I don’t think we can.

Sharing a cup of coffee with a neighbor or visiting a friend. I recall these moments fondly because they seemed so rare – and necessary. Both my parents were from large families so we had cousins, aunts and uncles up the wazoo. But making time for friends and neighbors is important too – as time allows. Now again, it seemed rare to me, but who knows what went on when we were all in school and she found herself unencumbered for a brief moment. I am fairly certain she did not waste a moment of it.

Teaching by example and spreading love wherever she went. This was her superpower!

Many moms do these things and do them well. The amazing thing about my mom is I never heard her complain. . . or yell . . . or pass judgment on others.

I cherish every lesson she taught with her verbing. She also exemplifies these words of wisdom: this too shall pass; you attract more flies with honey than vinegar, when you smile the whole world smiles with you.

That’s my Mom - a cupful of optimism with a healthy dose of pragmatism.