MOM

Another Mother's Day where I'm a few thousand miles away from mom and from what I heard today, it appears that mom is pretty sad about it. Talking to my cousin on the phone earlier this afternoon, she mentioned that her mom (my mom's younger sister) called my mom to wish her a happy mother's day. Apparently mom made mention to my aunt how much she misses me. Enter the guilt.

I have my own reasons for living thousands of miles away from my family and the wall to wall of endless relatives. But that's another blog entry for another day.

From the time I was a young girl, people would constantly tell me how much I looked like my mom. I was a miniature version of ALJ (mom's initials). Of course, I never really saw the resemblence. Until I was probably about 10 years old. I remember stumbling upon a black and white photo of my mom when she was about 8 years old and it was like looking into a mirror. We were literally spitting images of each other. Needless to say, I was shocked. I always thought I was my own person. The crazy thing is, not only do mom and I look alike, we're also alot alike. Stubborn, hard-headed and somewhat opinionated, we also both have this ability to make others feel comfortable upon a first meeting. Gregarious and full of warmth, mom's generosity and care for people has always been modeled for me since I was very young.

Mom taught me how to treat people with respect and dignity. In the fourth grade, a time where certain kids were labelled with "the cooties" and thus ostracized by the rest of the class, she admonished me and challenged me to go against the flow of my other classmates.

When I was about 8 years old, I recall asking mom how babies were made. Her response? "Your dad gave me a shot." Being the young and naive 8 year old that I was, the only shot that I knew of at the time was the needle administered on your arm by the doctor and so of course, I took mom's response at face value and did not question her any further. Little did I know.... When I was about 11 years old, my great-aunt, who was visiting us from Seattle, sat me down and gave me "the talk". She even drew diagrams for me. One of the mortifying moments of my pre-pubescent years and I am fairly certain that mom put my great-aunt up to it.

The teen years were fairly turbulent, but that probably isn't anything new. I remember the first time I told my mom to "go to hell". That earned me a nice smack on the face. Somehow, telling her to "got to hell" seemed easier from then on. Probably because my smart-ass self would yell it to mom as I was running down the stairs towards the front door to get away from her.

When I was a junior in college I remember coming home one afternoon completely distraught. The night before, my then boyfriend dumped me. The creep did not even have the class to break up with me in person, instead he hid behind the telephone. When mom came home from work, she found me curled up on the living room couch bawling my eyes out. She didn't say anything at the time. What she did, however, was gather me into her arms, rocked me back and forth, and let me cry.

College graduation arrived too soon and I remember mom's words to me at a celebration dinner they held for me. "You're education is yours and no one can ever take it away from you. I'm so proud of you."

My big move to the East Coast came and my parents drove me, the hour and half, down to Everett, WA, so I could catch the train, which would take me on a three day trek across the country to Philadelphia. Mom and I got into a huge fight on the drive down. I wanted to revert to my adolescent attitude and tell her to "go to hell", but I bit my tongue and held it in. The drive was fairly quiet after we had our fight, but when we arrived at the train station the apologies of course came out. "I'm sorry." "I love you." When I boarded onto the train and took my seat by the window, I could see dad supporting mom in her grief of having to say good-bye. I remember crying for the first three hours of that train ride, the swaying train eventually lulling me to sleep. My move to the East Coast was a defining factor in my relationship with my mom as it brought us closer than before.

Mom was a fifth grade teacher in the Philippines. I taught 11th and 12th grade English Literature for two years in the inner-city.

The other day, I was having a conversation with a pre-adoptive mother that I am currently working with. Somehow I ended up talking about my mom with her, which made me realize what a superwoman my mom is. Mom worked full-time, but she always managed to come home after work and cook a nutritious meal for us - and it wasn't your typical mac and cheese with hot dogs kind of crap. The meal was piping hot and ready to be devoured by the time dad arrived home from work at around 5:30. And I don't know how she did this, but she always manage to have the kitchen sparkling clean after dinner (with our help of course), have her evening bath, and then be in bed between 8:30 - 9:00PM. All the while keeping the house looking absolutely immaculate. Can we say superwoman or what?

I suppose I could go on and on with various anectdotes about my mom. All that to say, there are waaaaay too many stories to tell. But I just wanted to highlight some of the memorable moments with my mom. A woman full of warmth and grace, who embodies compassion and kindness to people around her - even with her quirks and idiosyncracies, I hope I can become even close to the woman of character that she exemplifies.