Mom

“When you look into your mother’s eyes, you know that is the purest love you can find on this earth.” ~ Mitch Albom, For One More Day

When I was younger, I did not think much of my Mom. I grew up wanting to not be like her, a stay-at-home mom who had given up her teaching career to raise my siblings and me. I would watch her go about her day, making breakfast for my family, cleaning house, doing laundry, cooking, cleaning, more cooking, more cleaning, and I grew disgusted at how her life had turned out. I used to wonder if my Mom had any ambition at all for her life. Did she not want more, desire more, than to just be a Mom and a wife?

My Mom did not start to work until my sister was in high school. By then, she had been out of the work force for so long that she had to start at the very bottom. I’m not sure why, but I had been angry at my Mom for not doing more with her life. I felt as though she wasted her life just staying home and doing nothing all those years.

It was not until I was older that I realized how wrong I had been about my Mom. She was not just home and doing nothing. She had sacrificed her own dreams and ambitions to always be at home, ready and available, to care for us, nurture us, feed us, and love us. She had the most important job of all. But yet she never complained about the hours she worked, the lack of vacation time, or how she never was monetarily compensated. She just showed up, every day, with a smile on her face to encourage us to go about our own day, and she never asked for anything in return.

It is only now that I understand that she has achieved more with her life than she may have done if she had stayed with her teaching career. She took on the harder career, the one of being a full-time Mom. She successfully raised three children and even had to endure the tragedy of losing one of us. She was damn good at what she did: the best Mom I ever could have had. It is ironic how I grew up not wanting to be like her, and now, I could only hope to be like her.

“For the hand that rocks the cradle – is the hand that rules the world.” ~ William Ross Wallace

Underage

On the phone with my financial services company:

“Yes, I’d like online access for my account.”

“Could you please verify your information?”

I give my name, social security number and address.

“Well, it appears that your mother is the guardian on this account, and you are not the person that can make any changes on this account.”

“Okay… you mean even if it’s MY account and I just gave my Mom access to MY account, I can’t even apply for online access?”

“That’s right. Your mother is the Guardian on this account and since you’re underage, we can’t even talk to you.”

WTF???

Although I am 37, apparently I cannot be trusted to handle my own finances.

“Mom, help!!!” (She so loves being needed.)

This reminds me of when I tried to rent a car last summer. El, you’ll remember this:

“Hi. I’d like to rent a car please. Could you please tell me what’s available?”

The woman at Hertz looks at me and says, kindly, “Honey, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you can’t. You have to be at least 18 in order to rent a car.”

After showing her my driver’s license, we determine that I am actually older than she is.

Looking young and sounding young doesn’t always have its advantages.