Relative: The Mother of All Excitement

Write about my mother you say, NaBloPoMo writing prompt? That proves to be difficult. She drives me crazy. She sacrificed so much and then some for me, for our survival, for a better life.

To say she’s peppy is an understatement. The woman rises early and is the captain of the cheer squad. When I was in high school, I would grunt at her not to address me until I had at least showered. It was just too much. If she thought I wouldn’t strangle her, she’d probably call me every day. I’m not a fan of sitting on the phone with her and spilling my guts or playing 20 Questions. Her favorite phrase is, “I’m so excited!!!” {Cue Jesse Spano in the “Saved by the Bell” drug episode.} Please don’t criticize my use of multiple exclamation marks; it makes me cringe as well. However, it’s virtually impossible to illustrate just how bursting with excitement she is about anything and everything. Unfortunately for whatever reason, this attitude elicits the exact opposite response from me. It’s almost as if I’m trying to level out the emotional spectrum.

And yet, she has done everything for me. Even when I was daddy’s little girl and would run crying to my father when she *gasp* dared ask me to complete chores for the third time, she didn’t flinch and loved me anyway. She went without food when there was only one can of vegetables and a little bit of mac ‘n’ cheese left for dinner. Against all sane reasoning, she kept her promise and let me get a dog when we finally got a house after the divorce. You should know I picked a German Shepard mutt mix and she was crazy energetic. And very hairy. Long black hairs everywhere. Ugh. Heidi. I was so excited that I even had the dog in my senior pictures.

She went back into enemy territory even when she was forbid to do so. When my father passed away, his family made it clear she was not welcome. I was a long way from my then home, and though I had people who are basically my second family there it was hard. I was 19 and had a rocky relationship with my dad every day after the divorce until he died. She insisted on flying into the area even though she couldn’t sit through the services with me. She took me out to buy a new black dress so I’d have something appropriate to wear and was waiting, bags packed, after the services to take me home.

In short, I’m a terrible daughter. I expect too much, I get irritated too easily and I won’t just relax and be my lovely self when I’m around her or talking to her on the phone. But she continues to say “I love you” over and over, hug me again and again every time I see her and gush about everything wonderful and brilliant I’ve done (these days mostly the grandchild I produced). With any hope and luck, I’ll be half the mom to Pumpkin that she is to me.

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One thought on “Relative: The Mother of All Excitement

  1. Why is it our relationship with our mothers can be so challenging? My daughter often accuses me of being to optimistic too. Yet, no matter what she says to me, I still just want to hug her and tell her how wonderful she is. Your post is a good reminder to me to back off sometimes, give her space, and let her come to me. Great tribute to your mom.

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