Magnolias for Mammas

Wishing a Happy Mothers' Day to mothers, mothers-to-be, grandmothers, stepmothers, mothers-in-law, surrogate mothers, and honourary mothers!  I've probably caught you with a mouthful of eggs benedict, or breakfast-in-bed-pancakes, but I just wanted to say, thank you for the difference you make in the world!  

Every day, young mothers share with me their pride in their children, and their secret fears for those same children.  Raising children to be the best they can be, takes strength, vitality and presence.  The energy needed to just listen at the end of a long work day, let alone prepare dinner, help with homework, and do the laundry, would zap most people.  That mothers do this day after day, seven days a week, for years is awesome!  As for presence...you really have to live in the now, and know the difference between a teaching moment, and a moment that is simply meant for you to just be.

It also takes highly developed research skills, and a strong sense of what to take to heart, and what to throw out with the bath water.  To hover, or not to hover?  To encourage their interests, or a diversity of interests?  To take on the school bully, or let them learn to fight their own battles?  I've heard many mothers say how overwhelmed they are with everyone's opinons about how to raise their children.  Nothing makes these women happier than watching their child make the right choice, and be their best.  

That doesn't stop when the kids move away from home.  Just because they're old enough to vote, or have children - or grandchildren of their own, doesn't mean that mothers stop worrying, offering advice, or praise.

My Mum was quiet.  She was also hard of hearing.  Nevertheless, she was observant, and had a highly developed sense of people's body language and facial expressions.  She could read people, and subtly shared her knowledge with me.  In later years, when she lost most of her ability to speak, her naturally expressive eyes would tell us so much of what we needed to know.

It's ironic that I - a multi-sensory being - who surrounds herself with sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch, is the daughter of a woman who lost, or was deprived of most of these senses.  I love perfume, the fragrance of flowers, and the smell of cookies baking in the oven.  Mum lost her sense of smell when she was seven years old.  Although she was an amazing cook and baker, who made her own bread (ground her own flour), preserves, jams, mustard and mayonnaise, she survived for eighteen years on a feeding tube, unable to taste anything.  She was hard of hearing, which didn't stop her from playing music.  We would come home from school to find her listening to our record albums while ironing (big Fleetwood Mac fan).  She became profoundly deaf in her last years.  Two massive strokes robbed her of feeling on her right side, yet, she never lost her sense of touch in her left hand...a hand I held until a few hours before she died.     
 

Ours was a home that other kids came to, to play and eat.  It was a safe place to be.  A great place if you were hungry for a bowl of soup, or some cookies.  Mum loved having us at home, and welcomed all of our friends around the table.  I see pictures of my young friends' homes, with neighbourhood kids' boots and shoes in piles at the door, or kids sharing sandwiches on the back porch...and I know how blessed those children are!

Mum ironed a lot.  With four kids and a husband who needed fresh pressed shirts every day, she was always ironing.  When we were younger, she also embroidered flowers on our blouses, and sewed many of our dresses by hand. 

So, our teenaged years in the early '70s were especially painful for her.  One sunny Spring morning, as we crowded into the laundry alcove near the back door, putting on our shoes, she looked at each one of us in exasperation.  My siblings wore jeans and t-shirts.  I was wearing a robin's egg blue knit top and matching skirt...with camel coloured desert boots and a World War I soldier's torn canvas kitbag as a purse.  In our own defence, we explained that, "all the kids dress like this".  To which she replied in her French Canadian accent, her voice choking with emotion, "it's to whom will look de stupid!"  

No contest - she was the best!

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.