Happy Birthday Mom!

Today is my mom's birthday. She would have been 91. She was one fantastic lady - a true Southern belle. Oh, the things she would say and do. I find myself telling the same stories about her over and over and over - and no matter how many times I tell them, no one enjoys them more than I. In this way, she is still making me smile.

I'd like to share just a few...
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To say Mom was a little old-fashioned would be an understatement. Tammy Wynette didn't have anything on her. Mom believed God put woman on this earth to take care of her man - and she loved my husband Bob, and he loved her. She lived with us the last several years of her life in a downstairs apartment. Of course I saw her every day, but on this particular day I was finally off work after working several days of overtime in addition to my regular shift (I'm a nurse.) On this particular morning I went downstairs to tell her I finally had a day off. I could tell she was thrilled for me, but probably more thrilled for Bob. In her sweet soft voice, she said, "Oh honey, that's so nice. You should bake Bob a cake." Can you imagine? Here I've been working all this overtime, and she thinks I should bake Bob a cake? Heck, Bob should be baking me a cake! Mom didn't agree.

Bob really loved this about her.
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Mom never sat idle. She was constantly cleaning and straightening things. While she loved living with us, she feared being a bother. So to pay her way, so-to-speak, she became the ultimate housekeeper. Because of her, we never had a dirty dish in the sink or a dirty piece of clothing in the laundry hamper. It was a joke in our house that we only needed two pair of underwear - the pair we took off and the pair we put on. Bob always bragged that the same pair of underwear he took off would be back in his underwear drawer by morning. (You can smile if you want, but it's true! )________________________________

Mom could clean off a table too, faster than anybody I ever knew. While she loved for all the family to linger around the dinner table after a meal laughing and sharing stories, she herself, did not linger. She was up immediately clearing the table - and if you spent too much time talking and not eating, your plate or glass would disappear right out from under your nose. We laughed many a time at the shocked expression on the face of the person who turned back and went to jab a fork into a plate no longer there - sort of a "gotcha" moment! While most of us did finally learn to always keep one hand on our plate and the other around our glass, thankfully, there was still an occasional slip up! We watched for it, too! It became a highlight of our holiday dinners.

Bob says I did take after Mom somewhat in this respect. He tells friends that sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, only to find the bed made when he gets back. It's not true, of course, but I like the comparison.
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Mom's health declined and after one short hospital stay she was sent home with a two-week prognosis. Hospice was called in and she was taken off all medications except those to keep her comfortable. Seven months later, Hospice informed us they had to release her. Now in seven months, mom had become quite fond of the young Hospice caregivers, so she immediately wanted to know why "those nice little girls" had stopped coming to see her. "Because you didn't die!" I told her teasingly. She looked shocked for only a moment before putting her little hands on her hips and exclaiming, "Well, if that's what they expected, I don't want to see them either!"
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Age and illness made Mom very feeble and unsteady on her feet. In spite of us moving her bed as close to her bathroom as we could get it, she would still occasionally not quite make it back to bed. Instead, she would slide to the floor where she would have to remain until someone could help her back to bed. It was my fear that this might happen in the night and she would have to spend the night in floor. So I placed a baby monitor under her bed. Mom was very modest and very private, so I did it without her knowledge. I felt guilty about this, but needed a way to keep her safe. It worked too. I was awakened on several occasions and went downstairs to help her back into bed. On one such occasion, as I gently lifted her back to bed, she hugged me and said, "Oh honey, you always seem to know when I need you."

I never felt guilty about the monitor again.
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And probably my most favorite...

It was near the end and Mom was in the hospital. She had been unresponsive for several hours. Staff was just trying to keep her comfortable. Around 2 am I decided to run home for a few hours. Not wanting to leave without saying goodbye, I leaned over her, kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear, "Mom, I could kiss you a thousand times." Much to my surprise, and delight, this little voice whispered back, "Well, you'd better get started then."

I would have loved to have been given the time.

Happy Birthday Mom!

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