1. My mom has a great imagination and has always encouraged creativity.
She believes trees have feelings and spirits. One of her crusades is liberating trees from nails and other hardware. “Did you hear her?” she says after pulling out a nail, “She gave a sigh of relief.”
She is convinced that our dogs could talk if she trained them.
To get me to brush my teeth when I was little she said I had bugs crawling around my mouth that only she could see. It worked.
My mom would point out little hollows in tree trunks or other habitable looking nooks in the woods and say forest people lived there. If Andy or I doubted their existence, she wouldn't back down, but said "They might be real. Who knows?" She also left the door open for believing in Santa Claus, saying that his spirit existed so in a way he did, too. I think that's a generous gift to give a child, to whom Santa Claus is tantamount to God.
Another gift she gave me was believing my stories, or at least pretending she believed. When I fabricated grand tales without the least shred of truth and claimed them as personal experience, instead of calling my bluff she listened calmly, said "uh-huh" and encouraged me to put it on paper.
She is one-eighth Micmac and used to pretend that she knew the language. “Haya hoo clemenocho”, she’d say, “That’s Micmac for come inside and get cleaned up." I was impressed.
2. My mom has a highly developed sense of adventure.
She went swimming during the tail end of hurricane Andrew and convinced me to go with her. Even the surfers in their wetsuits hung back looking afraid, but my mom ran into the 9 foot surf, yelling, "Isn’t this fun!" and miraculously, we were not swept away.
During one of my birthday sleepovers she bravely suggested taking the whole group of adolescent girls for a midnight walk. Wearing our pajamas, we giggled our way to a graveyard down the road and had a grand time scaring ourselves silly. Some of the girls’ parents pitched a fit when they heard about our excursion, but that party beat my peers' birthday parties hands down.
A trip to the beach turned into a late night when our car got locked inside Parker Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island. My mom got my brother and me excited about sleeping under the sky, being lulled to sleep by the waves and even rationing food. I think we were all disappointed when the marine patrol came by around midnight and let us out.
3. My mom had a relaxed, common sense approach to mothering.
She allowed Andy and me to play all afternoon in the woods, the swamp, by the stream, on King Rock or with other kids in the neighborhood as long as we were home before dark. I don't remember her questioning us much, either, when we absconded with the supplies necessary for our activities. A box for treasure, boards, hammer and nails for making swords, a magnifying glass for burning ants: my mom didn't worry unnecessarily about material things.
She didn't make a big fuss over minor injuries, either. My mom's stock response to bloodied knees was, "It's just a scratch. Rub it." Once, I received a bad scrape while I was playing at Lindsay's house. I clearly recall the sense of pride I felt when, without any falderal, I washed my wound off with a hose and Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Holland kindly admired my bravery.
My mom enabled me to laugh at certain childhood boogey men, like fear of the dark. "There's nothing there that can hurt you", she would say. And wild animals? "They're more afraid of you then you are of them."
When I was in the 6th grade my class went to the kind of camp where one "encounters" nature. One of the encounters involved finding our way back to the cabins after dark from a trail in the woods. We couldn't get lost because there was a rope to follow, but some of the kids broke down. I mean, they were immobilized and had to be rescued by teachers with flashlights while I, thanks to my mom, could have spent the night out there.
4. My mom is a good citizen.
For approximately 10 years she has picked up litter on the stretch of road between our house and Klondike Corner. That's two miles round trip, at least half of a plastic grocery bag per trip, about five days a week, rain or shine...I don't know how much trash that amounts to, but it's more than her fair share. That makes her a hero in my eyes.
5. My mom really moves.
Walking, swimming, cycling, dancing, hiking, yoga-ing and pumping iron are her regular activities. She's an inspiration and a great example of wellness. She's the reason I appreciate exercise.
6. My mom is passionate about nature.
Another gift my mother has given me is an appreciation for nature. She can name wild flowers. She protects and cherishes certain plants on our property, like lady's slippers, as if she knows them personally. My mother is putting the chestnut back in Chestnut Hill. Literally. I know what winterberries taste like because of my mom. I can't count the number of times we've hiked Plum Trail or down to the Pulpit. Enjoying nature and the outdoors is one of life's greatest pleasures. And I love enjoying it with my mom.
7. My mom knows proper etiquette.
She refers to the bible of etiquette, an Emily Post guide from the 50's, for manners protocol. She knows the correct way to use a spoon and she always sends thank you cards. At one time our family was involved with a home schooling group. Some of the parents taught classes--geography, math, science. My mom taught etiquette. She had students practice walking with books on our heads for good posture, taught us how to set a table properly and how to get in and out of a car while wearing a skirt. Most of the math, science and geography I learned flew the coop long ago, but I sure do remember those etiquette lessons.
8. She just does.
She believes trees have feelings and spirits. One of her crusades is liberating trees from nails and other hardware. “Did you hear her?” she says after pulling out a nail, “She gave a sigh of relief.”
She is convinced that our dogs could talk if she trained them.
To get me to brush my teeth when I was little she said I had bugs crawling around my mouth that only she could see. It worked.
My mom would point out little hollows in tree trunks or other habitable looking nooks in the woods and say forest people lived there. If Andy or I doubted their existence, she wouldn't back down, but said "They might be real. Who knows?" She also left the door open for believing in Santa Claus, saying that his spirit existed so in a way he did, too. I think that's a generous gift to give a child, to whom Santa Claus is tantamount to God.
Another gift she gave me was believing my stories, or at least pretending she believed. When I fabricated grand tales without the least shred of truth and claimed them as personal experience, instead of calling my bluff she listened calmly, said "uh-huh" and encouraged me to put it on paper.
She is one-eighth Micmac and used to pretend that she knew the language. “Haya hoo clemenocho”, she’d say, “That’s Micmac for come inside and get cleaned up." I was impressed.
2. My mom has a highly developed sense of adventure.
She went swimming during the tail end of hurricane Andrew and convinced me to go with her. Even the surfers in their wetsuits hung back looking afraid, but my mom ran into the 9 foot surf, yelling, "Isn’t this fun!" and miraculously, we were not swept away.
During one of my birthday sleepovers she bravely suggested taking the whole group of adolescent girls for a midnight walk. Wearing our pajamas, we giggled our way to a graveyard down the road and had a grand time scaring ourselves silly. Some of the girls’ parents pitched a fit when they heard about our excursion, but that party beat my peers' birthday parties hands down.
A trip to the beach turned into a late night when our car got locked inside Parker Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island. My mom got my brother and me excited about sleeping under the sky, being lulled to sleep by the waves and even rationing food. I think we were all disappointed when the marine patrol came by around midnight and let us out.
3. My mom had a relaxed, common sense approach to mothering.
She allowed Andy and me to play all afternoon in the woods, the swamp, by the stream, on King Rock or with other kids in the neighborhood as long as we were home before dark. I don't remember her questioning us much, either, when we absconded with the supplies necessary for our activities. A box for treasure, boards, hammer and nails for making swords, a magnifying glass for burning ants: my mom didn't worry unnecessarily about material things.
She didn't make a big fuss over minor injuries, either. My mom's stock response to bloodied knees was, "It's just a scratch. Rub it." Once, I received a bad scrape while I was playing at Lindsay's house. I clearly recall the sense of pride I felt when, without any falderal, I washed my wound off with a hose and Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Holland kindly admired my bravery.
My mom enabled me to laugh at certain childhood boogey men, like fear of the dark. "There's nothing there that can hurt you", she would say. And wild animals? "They're more afraid of you then you are of them."
When I was in the 6th grade my class went to the kind of camp where one "encounters" nature. One of the encounters involved finding our way back to the cabins after dark from a trail in the woods. We couldn't get lost because there was a rope to follow, but some of the kids broke down. I mean, they were immobilized and had to be rescued by teachers with flashlights while I, thanks to my mom, could have spent the night out there.
4. My mom is a good citizen.
For approximately 10 years she has picked up litter on the stretch of road between our house and Klondike Corner. That's two miles round trip, at least half of a plastic grocery bag per trip, about five days a week, rain or shine...I don't know how much trash that amounts to, but it's more than her fair share. That makes her a hero in my eyes.
5. My mom really moves.
Walking, swimming, cycling, dancing, hiking, yoga-ing and pumping iron are her regular activities. She's an inspiration and a great example of wellness. She's the reason I appreciate exercise.
6. My mom is passionate about nature.
Another gift my mother has given me is an appreciation for nature. She can name wild flowers. She protects and cherishes certain plants on our property, like lady's slippers, as if she knows them personally. My mother is putting the chestnut back in Chestnut Hill. Literally. I know what winterberries taste like because of my mom. I can't count the number of times we've hiked Plum Trail or down to the Pulpit. Enjoying nature and the outdoors is one of life's greatest pleasures. And I love enjoying it with my mom.
7. My mom knows proper etiquette.
She refers to the bible of etiquette, an Emily Post guide from the 50's, for manners protocol. She knows the correct way to use a spoon and she always sends thank you cards. At one time our family was involved with a home schooling group. Some of the parents taught classes--geography, math, science. My mom taught etiquette. She had students practice walking with books on our heads for good posture, taught us how to set a table properly and how to get in and out of a car while wearing a skirt. Most of the math, science and geography I learned flew the coop long ago, but I sure do remember those etiquette lessons.
8. She just does.
4 comments:
I have always admired your mom. She has a certain presence and strength and is always very friendly.
She does rock!
I love reading such personal tributes as well.
Thanks for sharing! Now I know why our road is so clean! Thanks Mrs. P!
I love your mom!
I love this! Its so sweet. Hope you gave her a copy for mother's day :)
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