I believe 100% that my mom is a super hero. No one can do anything like my mom. She doesn’t have to save lives wearing a tight red and blue suit to be a hero; she just has to be herself.
I got thinking of mom when I starred at my bed yesterday morning. The blankets were thrown across my bed, bunched together like someone was resting underneath and hiding from the world. My mom makes beds better than anyone I know. I can never get the fitted sheet on correctly during my first attempt. When I finally master getting the fitted sheet on the bed, the blanket is never smooth. I remember coming home from school and I would look at my bed to tell if mom was in my room or not. She would always make the bed when she ventured into the danger zone. I think I had orange carpet, but my clothes (both clean and dirty) covered the floor entirely so I really don’t remember what color my carpet was. We had sticky “gak” stuff stuck on the ceiling. We tried to get it off by turning my baby sister’s bed vertical and trying to climb up it to the ceiling. It didn’t work and we broke her bed. I don’t know if mom knows that’s why the bed broke or if we are the ones who broke it. I think we blamed our cousin. Sorry mom. Looking back, maybe I should have listened to her or taken a free lesson on bed making 101 – she is a pro.
My mom also wraps Christmas presents the best. I really didn’t get the gene for present wrapping. I think a class of kindergartners could do better than I did. If I couldn’t figure out how to wrap it, I just crinkled the ends so it looked like a tootsie roll. People are going to tear it apart anyway, that is my thought. But mom takes the time and makes the presents look well-prepared. She rocks.
My mom used to always wear the most beautiful perfume. I have no idea what it was called, but it was in a red bottle. I would wake up in the morning for school and her scent was still fresh in the bathroom. I remember trying to climb up on the bath tub and on the counter just so I could grab the bottle. A few times I actually made it. Then, I would spray it on me. I felt just like my mom.
My mom’s voice, though often soft and hard to hear, is one of a kind. She has a way of calming me down when I am frantic. She has a way of reminding me that I am beautiful. Best of all, I believe her when she says it.
My mom has compassion for everyone and everything. She truly would give the shirt off her back to anyone of us kids. She wouldn’t even question it. Growing up, she taught me the importance of being considerate to everyone else’s feelings. Often if I complained about what someone said or did, she reminded me that maybe they were having a rough day. Surely, they didn’t mean to come off rude, mom would say. She gives everyone the benefit of the doubt and she understands the importance of forgiveness. I hope growing up I can remind myself to be compassionate and forgive people, just like mom.
Looking back, I know there are times when I was an absolute brat. I yelled at the top of my lungs (from my room because you know I didn’t have the courage to say this to her face) when she grounded me for my wrongdoings. Sorry mom. Looking back, I know she was just trying to teach me life lessons and discipline. I never thought I would ever tell her, “Thanks for grounding me, Mom! That’s the best thing you ever did.” But really, it kind of was. I learned all of my actions came with complimentary consequences. She also taught me the
In psychology courses (which I majored in for about four months), they taught approaches to personality and cognitive development. Some believe in nature and some believe in nurture. I think I lean on the nurture side, which thinks everyone is born as a blank slat and we are products of our environment. We didn’t have the biggest house on the block or the fanciest back yard, but we had love.
A house full of love is better than a house full of luxuries. I’m so glad I learned that at an early age.