Whadda Mom!

This past weekend my family and I went to Fort Myers to spend some time with my mom and step dad for the Mother's Day holiday. My two aunts, Dana and Lynare, were also there with Dana's two boys, Joey and Jonathan. We had a fabulous time and reminisced about the good 'ole days while the kids played in the pool and enjoyed each other's company.

About a month ago, my grandmother who was very dear to my heart passed away so this Mother's Day was bittersweet for all of us. My granny was a feisty lady who had strong opinions about matters and was more than willing to share these with others if provoked. She was one of those people with whom you always knew where you stood because she was so blatantly honest (which is a good thing!) So this weekend was a bonding time that my two aunts, my mother, and I had with one another and we relished in the time we had together.

This past Mother's Day, I cried when I left my mother's home. I hadn't done this since I was a teenager. Being with everyone this past weekend was one of the most fulfilling times I have had in my life. When I hugged my mother good bye, I began weeping and I couldn't control my emotions. She just hugged me and patted me like she always did when I was little and for a moment I felt that safety and security like I had felt as a child...the comfort and warmth of being in a mother's arms...my mother's arms. There isn't a sweeter, more welcoming place to be.

The older I get, the more I understand that the time we have on this earth is very limited. You never know when the people whom you love will no longer be there to talk to or laugh with so take my advice--love your family with wreckless abandon, take the time out of your busy day to make that phone call you've been wanting to make, and let the ones you care about know how you feel. You'll never regret taking that step to spend time with the ones you love.

My children love playing with their siblings, but they also love spending time with their cousins, aunts, and uncles. Looking back on my childhood, the things I remember most were not the presents I received for birthdays or the lavish Christmas gifts-- it was spending time with family, camping out on a sleeping bag with my cousins at my Aunt Anita's house, and making silly commercials. These are the things that cannot be purchased and have the most meaning for children. I just hope that as a mother, I am giving my own children these experiences so that they can have a fulfilling childhood like I did. Thanks, Mom.

Anger Management

I've always had a bit of a temper--even when I was younger. My first distinct memory of out-and-out tantruming isn't as a child, but as a teenager instead. I was in high school in the late 80's and skyscraper hair styles were all the rage...the bigger, the better. I have naturally curly hair so I didn't have to get a perm like most of the girls, but I did have to have it frosted (yes, I said frosted--not highlighted with foils, but pulled through a cap with a knitting needle.) I had THE hair when I was in high school. It was big, bold, and bodacious. Anyway, one morning I was getting ready for school and my hair just wouldn't cooperate. I had my Aqua Net in one hand and sprayed my bangs until they were dripping with hairspray then I held them up with a pick and blew them dry with my hairdryer so that they were standing at attention. My hair had its normal amount of volume, but the shape was just all wrong and my bangs were just not standing the way I wanted. I was infuriated, but there was nothing I could do. My friend was waiting to give me a ride and I didn't have time to wash my hair and start all over again. Instead of chocking it all up to a bad hair day, I went into an all out rage. My mother was sitting at the dining room table listening to my grumbling and was hearing this all unfold. I was getting angrier by the second and finally I had to blow. I began SCREAMING at my mother and my friend (who was nice enough to pick me up and give me a ride to school, if I might add, so I didn't have to ride the bus) while complaining about my hair. I threw my teasing comb, chucked the hairspray can, and kicked the trashcan on the way out of the bathroom. My mom just sat in the dining room and would say to me in a calm voice, "Heather, it looks good. Quit getting so mad," as she puffed religiously on her cigarette and drank her coffee. My tantrum ended and I went to school, but this ritual occurred at least a couple of times a week. Looking back, I wonder why my mom didn't take that coffee cup of hers and whirl it at me when I was acting like a complete idiot...I'll have to ask her that.