Momisms

I have been busy with travel, leaving me little time for writing. Now that I have a breather I can write about a few Momisms. You know, the stuff that happens that tells you this is real life, not a commercial where everything is rosy and plastic. When Momisms occur I take a second to look at them and allow myself to chuckle at them. For they are usually signs that Mom is not stabilizing, but is a shade lighter than she was the day before.

I was sitting in my office when the house phone rang. I always listen in on my parents’ conversation. Not to fulfill any voyeurism need I am hiding from everyone. No, I listen, because I worry that one of them will give out personal information over the phone, to a stranger. Mom was giving short answers to someone asking for a charitable contribution. I heard her say, “Yes, I would like to give some money, but how???” Boing! Boing! Boing! Red flags are popping up in my mind. “Oh, you need my credit card number?…hold on, I will have to get it.” I sprang into action like a phone police superwoman. Since I knew the caller was an unknown to Mom, I quickly told her to never give her credit card number to anyone, especially a charitable organization she never heard of. Mom returns to the phone, “I’m sorry I don’t know you and I am sure you are a very nice person, but I can’t give you my credit card number. I am sorry. Can you send me something in the mail?” I guess the person couldn’t do that because she quickly said good bye and hung up. I have to give Mom credit for being nice. I am nasty when it comes to any phone solicitation. I guess I have more Dad in me when it comes to such matters.

A couple of weeks ago, Mom went with me to wash windows and do some cleaning at my house. It is almost ready to be put on the market – yea! The really huge YEA! goes to Mike, Laura and family for all of their work on this never ending project. Mom and I arrived at the house. There is a flurry of activity going on: Mike was working downstairs while a construction crew of 3 men were redoing my sidewalk and two retaining walls. We stepped around the wet cement, tools and over a threshold that was in the making. We started cleaning. Mom took a break and then asked me what’s next. She had already informed me, “I don’t do windows. I just pay someone to wash my windows”. OK, Princess Marilyn. She did the final mopping of the hardwood floor. By the time she was done, I had finished the window in the small office. She said she would mop the floor. I reminded her to use the furniture spray, like she did in the other room. Mom started spraying the polish directly on the floor. “Mom!” I yelled in my alarming voice. “Just spray the polish on the mop and then mop the floor so you don’t get too much polish on the floor.” The filter slid down a couple of notches and in the most haughty tone she could muster she replied, “Well, I wasn’t raised to be a maid.” Ooohhhhh….Mom gets in a dig. “I know, Mom. Me neither” I replied.

We started washing the windows in my bedroom, which overlook the side yard. A man walked from the front yard, through the side and into the back. “Who is that man?” Mom asked. “He’s the owner.” I replied, referring to the construction crew working out front when we came in earlier. “He owns this house???” Mom asked. “No, that is the guy who owns the cement company working on the sidewalk.” I answered. Without missing a beat, Mom stated emphatically, “That’s good, because I’m not washing his windows!”. I didn’t bother to explain that we were in my house.

I smile when I recall all of her Momisms. They are gems to be remembered and brought out when things get worse, as they inevitably will. When an exhausting day has drained me of my humanity, it will be the Momisms that will ease away my weariness. I pray that her wit and kindness will remain to the end. That way, some of Mom will stay with me and all of us till her final days.

Peace,

JaneEllen