MY mother.

I want to take the time to write about my mom and everything this she is (and isn’t) to me. I do live with her and am helping her raise my nieces, but still yet, even in the next room, she’s been on my mind. I lost my Dad 13 years ago and you just never know when you’re going to lose a parent, so I wanted to take make sure I took the time to write about her while she is still with me in this world. She’s one of my most favorite people. We can also fight quite a bit, but under our given circumstances…I think that’s normal. She’s one of the most complex, brave, selfless, giving, impressionable, crazy people that exists. That woman has been through so much in her life…and as hard as it may be sometimes, she keeps going. As a child, she was shy. She was one of six kids…and parental attention and affection was scarce, especially paternal. Because of this she always seems to find herself in the middle of drama…whether she wants it or not, she secretly invites it. This is one of the ways we differ. She lacked that fatherly love in her life and she looked for it many men throughout her life, several who abused her. The abuse that woman has went through is NOT FAIR. Her shell is hard and brave, but the inside is that of a soft, sweet, scared little girl much of the time. She would never let the people in her life see it though. During her second marriage (to my stepdad…the love of her life) she proved how brave she was to everyone by becoming a State Trooper. Training was hard and she almost quit during the middle of it, but that little voice inside her pushed her through. I’m glad it did. She loved her job. I was proud to have a mom that was an officer. She was a tough cop, but at the same time was the type that would offer a cigarette and their choice of radio station on the way to haul some misfortunate soul off to jail. I’ll never forget on my 15th birthday when she picked me and my 3 best girlfriends up from high school in her patrol car and turned the sirens on as she drove away announcing my birthday over the loud speaker attached to the top of her car. I felt so special…it was one of those moments where you KNEW everyone was looking at you and smiling for just a moment. My friends got a kick out of it too. She worked hard at her job for over 12 years…until it finally got to her. The PTSD from all of the fatalities she had to work was too much. The visions, the smells…they all invaded her mind more than she wanted them to…and she couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t blame her one bit. It was similar to a veteran soldier who had been to war…and what they suffer. So, she retired early. Though the job affected her mental state strongly, she still was so proud of it and considers it her “glory days”. Since then, she’s went through divorce with my stepdad (who suffered himself from PTSD from serving in Vietnam) and between both of them having midlife crises, they needed to be apart. Though to this day, I know that they were soul mates and she knows she will never love anyone like she did him again. He passed away this past August. She’s also had to deal with my deep depression I went through 6 years ago, my sister’s drug addiction rollercoaster, and raising 2 of her grandkids due to said addiction. We never dreamed we’d be raising kids together that were neither of ours; but here we are. Making it work. At first it was hard. We both tried to adjust to raising 2 young kids that were not our own. We were both stressed, resentful, etc…and we FOUGHT about it a lot. For years. We probably fought over how to raise these kids for the first 3 years we had them. We had always had a PERFECT mother-daughter relationship up until that point. I had always been her angel child..the mediator, the one that didn’t cause trouble. But our parenting styles are quite different. It clashed…along with both of our mood swings..until we finally realized that each other was not the enemy, that we were in this together: a team. Now we rarely ever fight, and I’m glad to have made it back around to the relationship we used to have (for the most part considering what we’ve both been through in life). I love her so much. She’s also been diagnosed with a liver disease and bipolar disorder…so she’s sick/emotional a lot…but she also is one of the greatest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. She loves so much and helps everyone she knows (or doesn’t know). She’s always so inviting and buys things/pays bills for people even if it empties out her bank account. She never asks for anything in return, and that takes a pretty selfless person. Her life on earth has been hard, but I have no doubt that beyond this universe greatness awaits her and her heart of gold. When I think of my mom I think of all the little things that she loves, that not makes her up, but  decorates or accentuates who she is. She is a tomboy. She is a child at heart who loves to play and be youthful. She loves to wear plaid, flannel pajamas. She enjoys her cigarettes. She drinks a full pot of coffee everyday. She loves playing silly little games on her phone. She’s a beast at crossword puzzles. She’s a history buff and knows the Bible inside and out. She could fish everyday of her life and never grow tired of it. Spontaneity and Impulse are her middle names. She loves to frivolously hop in the car and just drive to a random city in the middle of the night. She likes to finger paint on the house walls because WHY NOT? She eats bagels like they are going out of style. Instead of hanging pretty works of art on her walls, she prefers handmade crafts that the kids made. She’s a heavy sleeper. She’ll try anything once. She has a hard time expressing love to her children in words, but it always shows in her actions. She’s not a morning person. She hates the winter time. She’s a lover of all things music. She loves all different styles of music, through she prefers 70’s or southern gospel. She’s very much in love with pianos and can play some. Football is an obsession. She’s clumsy as all getout. She can attract men from all ages and walks of life no matter if she looks like a zombie or a movie star…and still has it at 58! Her grandkids are her life and she wouldn’t be able to breathe if my nieces were ever taken from her. She’s allergic to bees. She gave birth to me naturally without even so much as a Tylenol to help with the pain. She’s a warrior. She’s brave. She’s kind. She’s loving. And I’m so proud to call her MY MOTHER. I love you, mom! ❤

One thought on “MY mother.”

  1. Your mum sounds super kool!! That was really nice to read =)

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