Step On A Crack

How many times in life have we reached out to hold our mothers hand?

This was hard to write, and I do not know why. What do you say in a public forum about your mother?

This is my fourth attempt, unsure of which way to write it. Do I go whimsical, serious, melancholy. Some people have Mommy issues they want to deal with and feel the urge to write an article describing the mess their mother made of their life. I am not one of them, I am PROUD of my mother, and I love her. There were moments when I may not have liked her, but I always loved her. So, why is it that while trying to write something about one of the most important people in my life, the only thing that reverberates over and over in my head is that silly poem:

Step on a crack break you’re Mothers back…..?

Who wrote that and why? Whoever did was probably angry with their Mother, right?

Or was this little ditty written by a Mom trying to work on the guilt angle; ‘Sure go ahead step on a crack if you don’t love your mother, you never appreciated anything I’ve done for you. I used to have a waistline you know.'

Perhaps it was a safety poem contrived many years ago, warning children to stay away from cracks in the ground, you know during Volcano or Earthquake season. ‘See I told you children to not step on a crack, but you never listen. Now we went and lost your sister, Karisa, to a crevasse.’

While I write this, I can still hear the band DEVO singing that line in their song ‘whip it.’

But I digress.

As I said, I love my mother. Unconditionally as a child and with respect as an adult, now knowing what she did for us.

But how do I explain it?

Perhaps I could mention Respect. I think deep down I always had that for my mom, she was a pioneer in her own way, she taught us by example, that women are powerful, intelligent, and capable. Because of her, I have always assumed and accepted a woman being more than capable of doing what was labeled as a 'man’s only job.' I witnessed a woman who could do it all and then some. With women’s rights. She didn’t march or burn her bra, she just did it. Showing people that anyone could do it, if they had the desire and will. She was born and raised in a time when it was still a very male dominated society. Women had their place and most learned to live that way. Not my mother, she had her own thoughts and ideas, she had her own business and still managed to run a household.

Should I mention the sacrifices that are required to be a mom? The nights she stayed up into the wee hours sewing last minute outfits for tomorrow’s school play, which we told her about over supper that night. The many bake sales she was required to supply cupcakes, cookies, or pies. The homemade birthday cakes, sometimes with money stuffed inside sometimes without, mostly without. The hours and hours spent in the kitchen prepping breakfast, lunches, and suppers not to mention the special holiday feast. Do not get me started on that, she prepped for weeks before the big day just so we could scarf it down in thirty minutes. They were delicious.

Her motto was ‘the more the merrier’. If you had nowhere to go or could not make it home for the holidays, you were welcomed at our home. I have friends who still talk about the good times they had and how welcomed they felt. At Christmas if someone unexpected showed up, somehow my mom was prepared. Extra chair, plate, no problem and she also managed to have a little gift wrapped up to give them. I must remind you she did this while working full time.

She taught us values, how to be respectful, and kind to others as well to each other. Family unity is important to her, she wanted to make sure we would always be there for each other. We were not rich, but we never really knew it. Our clothes were always clean, our house was tidy and in order, we never felt we went without. Except I never did get those super slyder snow skates from K-tel. Don't worry readers, I survived.

It is a mystery to me how she managed the Sunday ritual on her own. Somehow she wrangled five cranky children, convinced us to get washed, dressed in our finest and arrive to church on time. Our father stayed back. Just for shitz and giggles, (spelled correctly, no swearing allowed in this article, my mom may read it), I dare you to take five children to a Catholic mass, that seemingly goes on forever and see how your sanity holds out.

It was our mother who taught us the value of money. Showing us that you do not need to earn a lot, to save. Because pennies saved today will grow to become dollars tomorrow. When my brother and I were in our early twenties, it was our mother who helped us start a business of our own, based on faith.

When I began the journey of a family of my own, I finally realized how much work, effort, and loss of sleep my mother went through. She gave birth to five wonderful, adorable, and well-behaved children, (I may be exaggerating that part a little, but I’m writing the story). She had her first child at the unheard-of age of thirty-three. Yep, five children, the first at thirty-three, you do the math. I already had two children by that age and could not fathom having five. I was already exhausted.

She was the disciplinary parent in our home, doing what she believed was right, in all honesty she was generally correct. We may not have agreed at the time, but all five children grew up to be good people. Thanks to both our parents, but in a big part due to her persistence. It wasn't always pleasant but it kept us honest.

In her spare time, not that there really was any, she loved to garden. Vegetables, flowers it didn't matter, she had a green thumb, and she enjoyed every moment she could outdoors. I believe that was her time, her mental solace away from life. This was probably the only time she didn't have to be a mom, wife, or business women, she could be herself. In a way she treated her family like a garden, she would do what ever it took to see it flourish and grow.

I will leave you with a little story, that sums her up:

My Mother is five feet five inches tall. Her business was a hair salon that was built in our house. One of the windows in her salon looked out onto our back yard. One day she glanced out and saw the town dog catcher sneaking into our yard trying to grab our dog. This man was of a dubious nature to say the least. He stood over six feet; he was known to be a little bit rough at times. Without a moments hesitation my mom flew out the salon and confronted the would-be dog thief. According to the women in the salon that day, my mom chased this man out so fast he didn’t have time to open the gate. He stumbled over bushes and had to climb over the gate to escape the fury of this little she demon. I like to think that upon her return from the encounter, her customers stood up and applauded. That women would not back down to anyone if challenged. I am not saying the Justice League should have tried to recruit her, but if they had, I guarantee crime would have gone down.

For all her stubborn and strict nature, my mom loves to laugh, and she loves to hear others laugh.

When we talk on the phone or over face time we laugh. She is in her nineties now, still lives on her own, and is relatively healthy. She suffered an illness a few years ago causing her to slowly loose her hearing, so our conversations usually turn into what ever she thinks she heard me say.

"So, Mom, are you taking your pills, before bed?"

Reply: " Yes, there is a chill , but its to late to bake bread tonight"

And so, we talk. The conversations are remarkably interesting.

While many of my friends no longer have their mothers, I feel fortunate to still have her in my life. I may not be able to fully express myself in regards to this wonderful woman, but one thing I know for sure.

If I am aware of it, I will never step on a crack….