My Moms

Writing about the mothers in my life is something I could probably fill a book with. I intend to just give some highlights here for you to know how I have been touched by the moms in my life.

I have heard women talk about the horrors of their mothers. The addictions, the mental illness, the abuse, trauma, being abandoned by their mothers. I will not be talking about that here.

The wonder women in my life helped me with my recovery from trauma. This and more are what I intend to share here.

I recently wrote a few things about my mom. I grew up with addiction and I saw it on both sides of the family. My mom did not drink much when I was growing up. She had six kids and it was not until I was in my mid-twenties that I noticed she was drinking a little more than usual.

One time in my late teens, we were visiting a friend of hers and they went out for a while, I watched the little ones, and when they got back, we talked for a while. When leaving my mom put her foot in her purse rather than in her boot.

I laughed so hard at the time, although looking back, that may have been one of the early signs that she was not holding her liquor too well. My father was a weekend alcoholic according to my mom. He died on my tenth birthday.

My mom had five kids and was grieving my dad, although she tried not to show it, I knew. She said something once about how she wanted to be like Jackie Kennedy at the funeral. I think she meant to act like her.

My teacher, a nun took me under her wing that year. My dad died in January and this woman was the mother who kept me close for the rest of the school year and that was enough to have her in my life until she died.

I took my children to meet her, and she was important to me as I wasn’t happy with God for taking my dad and she would talk to me about her relationship with God. She would ask about my life and be interested and happy to see me.

My mother’s father moved in with us shortly after my dad died. Grandpa stopped drinking when he hurt himself climbing out of a second-story window as grandma would not let him out the front door after he came home drunk, so my mom never saw him drunk as he did that just before she was born.

Two things that sum up my mom well are that my mom was my biggest cheerleader and she kept me laughing when no one else could. We did not always get along, but it is tough to get along with your parents as a teenager! I somehow learned it was my job to break away from her.

That is what my mom told us, and we all did just that. I was her oldest child and on my own early and married at seventeen and she paid for the wedding. All I had to do was show up to try on the dress and be there for the wedding.

I used to think she was in a hurry to get rid of me. Then later she told me she just wanted me married before I started having her grandchildren. How about that? Not my children, but rather her grandchildren! And she was the best grandmother, as she loved my children, and they knew it.

I started a recovery program when I was twenty-four. I have had many women over my 42 years in recovery mother me. I think of my first sponsor who told me she would be my sponsor after I had called her and could only cry on the phone.

I thought, how did she know it was me that called? She convinced me to sell Avon, and then said, “You will sell whatever you wear”. She was right. I did not take care of myself and I started to as it did work to wear products to sell products.

That was not enough though as my next sponsor had me selling Mary Kay. She said, "You will feel better as you help others to feel better." She was right too. I did not think I could afford the product and she said, you cannot afford not to use the product, as you will sell whatever you use.

She was right about that too. Then still another sponsor would tell me as I was struggling with whatever, “First run some bathwater, put bubbles in there, and light a candle.

Then after you soak in there for a half hour or more, put clean pj’s on, pick up a magazine with short stories, and go to bed. It was usually at night, but it did not have to be. This woman just knew I needed this at the time.

And even if I did not I would do it anyway as I did not know what else to do and it would keep me busy until I figured out the next right thing to do. She also told me to “shit or get off the pot”, after I had told her that I decided leaving my husband was still a maybe. She said “No, it is a no.

Maybes are only short-term. There are yes, no, and maybe answers. Your answer is a no.” That was in 1984 with my first divorce. She apologized in about 2015 by saying that she should not have told me to “shit or get off the pot”.

I was on my third husband in 2015. She did not say why she was apologizing 31 years later. It did not matter as I did not remember her saying that, rather I remembered a good mothering friend telling me that if we were meant to be together, we would be, but it would not be so sick.

I thought that sounded right along with our daughter telling me that we must leave Dad. I thought I was doing well. And I was doing better. Just not better enough apparently. I was so glad to have the healthy happy recovering mothering women in my life to support me with whatever decision I made.

My mother would tell the company that the recovery support people were my other family. She would say when someone asked where I was, “She is with her other family”. She would whisper that I was at the house and that they could not bring alcohol in because I was there.

My mother would tell people that I thought she was an alcoholic in front of me. I never said that, and I did not think that. What I said was, “We won’t stay here if you are drinking as you get sarcastic and mean.”

I did not care if she blamed me for not drinking. I was glad that she was not drinking at all anymore. When she became diabetic, she would say, “I don’t drink as I’m diabetic, you know”. She helped by pointing out that my drinking was a problem.

She would tell me about my relatives who quit drinking and why. She knew a lot about other family members. She and my oldest auntie talked almost every day and my auntie was the family historian.

I had support from my mother and my brothers to quit drinking and using drugs and it was because I did not think I had a problem, and they did.

A friend I went to grade school, then high school with topped that off when she first joined recovery by looking at me, pointing and crying louder than she already was, and said, “I knew you would be here!”.

That did it, I was convinced and believed that was just the proof I needed. This friend has continued her honesty with me, even when I do not care to hear it. That is why it is important to have those mothering types of friends that have known you for most of your life.

They tell you things you especially do not want to hear, just because it is what they would want from you.

I mentioned I have been married three times. Which means I have had three mothers-in-law. Well, four. The first one was my friend before she became my mother-in-law. Her son that was my age was a good friend. Then I married his older brother.

Many times, she took my side over him and that was as it should be I thought. When I got into recovery, I could not spend time with her as she would always offer me alcohol. We had good times drinking together. She worked as a cook and taught me many things about both cooking and life.

In spending time talking with her I began to clearly understand domestic violence and the importance of a woman’s right to choose. Other women I spent time with over the years have made it even more clear.

So, the first time my husband, her son was going to hit me, I could tell him, “If you ever hit me, you will never see me again” and I meant it. He knew I meant it too and he never did hit me.

In addition, my mother would call my brother John Skunk, after a boy in their village who would fight his sisters. My brothers stopped fighting their sisters and it became easy for me to think of men who fight women as skunks.

My second mother-in-law was married to my first father-in-law. She told me that since my father-in-law got older, he would not hit her as she could take him, and she had. I was surprised she told me that as I was not aware that he hit her.

My second husband’s father and stepmother we would see at Christmas and usually once or twice more each year. She was always interested in everything we were doing. She always had nice things to say and because she was a nurse and writer, we would talk about her books.

She was interesting to me and I to her. I think because of my culture and experiences with medicine. She loved my youngest son and took him as her grandson. She was even more interested in him than my husband’s son and my daughter.

It was probably the age of the kids when we came into their life. I learned from her I did not want to show favorites as I believed it made for hurt feelings.

Then there was my third husband’s stepmother. I loved her strength and love of my father-in-law and husband. She was a cook in her life also and I enjoyed going out to eat with them and having her critique the food.

She left me a voicemail on my phone one day and I kept it long after she died as she gave me the absolute best compliment about a soup I had made and sent over to her. She said it was the best homemade soup she had in a long time.

In our culture, my mother’s sisters and cousins were like my mothers too. Even though I did not see many of her cousins, I did spend time with her sisters.

Just before my aunt with dementia died, I visited her and she knew me and asked about where my mother was and I responded that she was home. That was enough for her.

My cousin thanked me for giving her a way to respond when her mother asked that question, as she did so often. My auntie was the only one of the 10 children in their family left alive at the time.

My dad’s favorite aunt, who was more like a mother to him, came to see me and my new baby girl just 3 days after she was born. She was my grandmother. She gave me a beautiful set of green dishes. She loved my father, me, and my children.

I feel my life has been so blessed, having so many wonder women in my life. Mother’s Day in May is so special. I wrote this attached rhyme in A Poem a Day in February about parenting and mothers from my experience. It is a tough job, and I would do it all over again.

Together my husband and I have seven children, twenty-five grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren with one on the way. With all the lessons I have learned and all the love I have been given, I know I will share what I can until the end of my life.

Parenting Can Be Tough Being a Mother is rough. No parents are experts. Kids doing their job, no one skirts. I let out a sob, as they put on their shirts. Experts don't have a child, and their child won’t be wild. Experts know everything, there’s more to learn. I let them know my concern. What do they really know? Two year old’s will say no, their favorite word. Don't take it personally, it's their sword . Six-year old's con, they know to not ask. Smart enough to know they will be given a task . Wearing a mask , preteens are back and forth, child then adult, they are even mommas baby, nothing is their fault . Teens are to breakaway, really doing a good job, making letting go easy, you go Bob! Good times and bad, many more rewards, their job is growing up, getting and giving awards . Because raising children causes so much desperation, being a mother deserves love and adoration. Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers in my life! I’m sorry for any grief I gave you or any strife!