My earliest clear memory of my mom is during spring. She was
standing in front of our house.
My earliest clear memory of my mom is during spring. She was standing in front of our house. There was a breeze blowing and it ruffled the hem of her blue dress with white polka dots. And even though the breeze was slight, not one hair in my mother’s perfectly coiffed beehive moved. It was like the Aqua Net fairies had blessed her ‘do. A gale force couldn’t shake it.
Mom’s hair fascinated me. Every Friday she went to the salon and had it done. And every night, she would wrap half of her hair in toilet paper and sleep on a satin pillowcase. The other half of her hair rested on a Styrofoam ball on her dresser. The first time I saw that, it scared the heck out of me.
But I thought she was beautiful anyway.
Mom wore blue eye shadow every day. She exercised regularly by standing on a board attached to a twisty thing and she would just twist and twist while watching “Dark Shadows.” I loved “Dark Shadows.” I wasn’t supposed to watch, but I would stand at the edge of the family room, watching Barnabus Collins put the bite on the townspeople, while Angelique used her feminine wiles to make others do her bidding.
It was heaven.
Back then, Mom ruled the kitchen, just as she does today. She could whip up my favorite tuna casserole or bologna and American cheese sandwiches on Wonder bread. Mom didn’t even mind when we slathered butter on a slice of bread, rolled it up into a ball and ate the spongy, gooey thing. She did mind when we used it as a weapon, though. But even today, after Mom has evolved into a terrific gourmet cook, she still makes our childhood favorite – chicken and dumplings.
When Mom wasn’t in the kitchen, she was with a group of girlfriends who lived on the same street. They would gather all of us together and sip coffee or tequila sunrises while we played on the swing set or swam in the pool.
Mom was always there to help with homework, even though she and I never did understand “new math.” And she always had an answer for all of my questions – even when I demanded to know why I had to learn algebra.
Things have changed now. Mom doesn’t watch “Dark Shadows” anymore. And she doesn’t keep her hair on a Styrofoam ball on the dresser, either. There are no more coffee mornings while watching children play. Instead, she is a company president. But she still has time for me. Any time I call, she answers. Any time I need her, she is there.
You know, when I was 7, I colored a picture of my mother for the school art show. It’s a woman with blue eyes and a pouf of yellow hair. Her shoulders are bare and she has on pearl earrings. Her nose is a half triangle and her ears are misshapen half circles. It’s the way I remember her when I was young and so was she.
But mainly I remember that Mom was the person who taught me to be a mom – just by being herself. She taught me to kiss boo-boos, keep peanut butter and jelly on hand at all times and not to forget that even when you are all grown up you can still dig in the mud and make pie.
Just don’t eat it. That’s where the Aqua Net fairies live. I think they’re waiting for Mom’s hair to come back and live on the dresser.
