If I Haven't Said it Lately... Thanks, Mom!

“Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth…” Hmmm, wonder where the mothers were when all this was happening?  The optimist in me likes to think that the moms may have been the ones to gently suggest to their men they stop and get directions in order to expedite the trip, so that they could get to the new land, bathe the kids, throw in a crop or two, whip up a batch of corn bread, hang the clothes to dry and pull together a home with a bit of mud, sticks and stones and get on with the business of building a new nation.  In the case that behind every great man there is a great woman, the females couldn’t have been far behind (nudging, reminding and occasionally advising a correct course of action).  But before I get ahead of myself, let’s focus back on the “mom” part.

The fact is that every man, woman and child, in most species, including our own, has a mom.  Since it takes two to tango, they also have a dad, but that gets too involved with the birds and bees – and I really need pictures and more time to do that topic justice.

Moms, over history, have taken a lot of razzing, teasing and good-natured fun thrown at them, but who is the first person acknowledged when a kid makes it on TV?  Who gets called when in a pinch, even if it is the middle of the night?  Whose words of wisdom do you remember when you have your own children?  What name do you curse when you realize that she was right?

Although most of what a mom does and doesn’t do is listed in the job description she receives when undertaking the daunting task of becoming someone’s mother, there are extras that make her take on the task unique and truly her own.  Besides mastering the fine art of guilt, it has been my experience that most moms use the senses to barrage the unsuspecting soul.  A sight, a smell, a taste, a touch or a sound can catapult you back into your youth faster than you can say “home-made” and leave the warmest fuzzy in your heart.  Or in some cases, resentment and anger, due to the fact you were forced to eat that one strand of sauerkraut on New Year’s Day, based on the German tradition that if you consume this delicacy you will enjoy good fortune that year and have food on the table, your life and love of cabbage was forever ruined (as you can see, I have almost worked through this experience of my youth and now only partially blame my mother.  I figure a couple more years of therapy and I should be at least be able to look a cabbage in the eye and be able to start a lasting relationship).

It is a fine line that moms must walk, never quite knowing if what they are doing is the right thing.  Even though moms do figure out why they are put on the earth (trust me, some days are questionable) – through a series of trial and error – kids don’t make it easy and as a rule, kids do not come with instructions.  You never fully appreciate your mom until you become a mother to a child that challenges you as well as you did to your mom.  It is a cycle that will go down in infamy, probably designed by a mom somewhere who was forgotten on Mother’s Day.  Don’t make that mistake, call your mom now – it is never too late to say thanks for being “mom” and that you love her… and take those first steps to work on that vegetable dispute – you will be glad you did because some day she won’t be here for you to hug, or to remind you to straighten your shoulders, or to happily rummage through her refrigerator for all your favorite things that only your mom would know.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-