Six Things My Mom Taught Me

Katherine O'Brien has a terrific blog (ihatebreastcancer) which you should check out, especially if you love breast cancer rage that is clever, funny, well informed and devastatingly accurate. Her latest post, Six Things My Mom Taught Me is a humorous, thoughtful reminiscence of growing up with six siblings under the tutelage of her mother, who died of inflammatory breast cancer when Katherine was a teenager. 


In the time honored tradition of the Internet, I am copying, stealing, appropriating, emulating her idea with my own six lessons from my mom.


1. "Eat your vegetables--they'll grow hair on your chest."  Being a girl, this was a confusing message.  Did I really want hair on my chest? If so, was it worth eating the mushy vegetables (see Vegetables). Or did my mom mean I needed those traits of courage, defiance and pluck that are more commonly associated with hairy heroic men?


2. "Your homework is your job." We never had assigned weekly chores, like doing the dishes or taking out the garbage, because the household was my mother's realm, but we were expected to excel in school. My father was a college professor and books, newspapers and magazines were plentiful at our house. I loved to read and one Christmas devoured the pile of books I got before the vacation was over--everything from Kateri Tekakwitha, Indian Girl to The Mighty Soo (Sault Ste Marie Canal) to Anne of Green Gables. 


My bedroom was right off the living room, so I was expected to keep it presentable, but most chores involved outside projects--everybody out to shovel the snow or rake the leaves. (My father took sole responsibility for mowing the lawn and annually burning it with too much fertilizer)


3. "God punished you." No, Mom wasn't a fierce Puritan from the 17th century, constantly invoking the vengeful creator, but she was a strong Catholic who believed that you were accountable for your actions and you'd better be good.  She exemplified this, reaching out to family, friends and especially our ancient neighbors. I dreaded to hear these phrases: 

• Tell Mrs.Schoeffler we're ready to go shopping and 
• Time to go next door to Mr. Willard's.  

Mrs. S. was our older neighbor who was a constant source of embarrassment for me. We would go to J.M. Fields, my mother's favorite discount store and Mrs. S. would "help" in picking out my clothes, rummaging through tables of underwear and then yelling over to us--"Rita, I found these for Ginny," holding up an enormous pair of plain, white cotton underpants that we could both fit in.  


Mr. W. was our other older neighbor who conned us into coming over to watch the Wonderful World of Disney show when he told my mom he had a new color TV. His living room was dark and stuffy and he sat in a chair clicking his false teeth together, while my mom, brother and I watched a black and white TV that had a colored piece of plastic taped over it. I sat tapping my feet in unconscious rhythm to the teeth clicking metronome, wondering if Hayley Mills with a red face, blue middle and green feet would look better if we turned the plastic upside down and gave her a green face, blue middle and red feet.  God did punish us sometimes!


4. "Laugh before supper, cry before bed."  This was another doozy. It was appropriate if a kid was hysterically overtired and you knew he was headed for a meltdown, but as words to live by?  The Irish are not known for effusive emotions and growing up during the Depression and World War 2 impressed a certain gravity on our parents' generation. Sometimes you wondered if the message was never be too happy because sadness was just around the corner.  

5. "Love, love, love -- that's a lot of crap."  Now I don't mean to paint my Mom as a crusty old bag who didn't believe in love and was never happy with anything. Not at all. She was fun and loved people, but she didn't put up with nonsense and those hippies shouting love, love, love were way off the mark.  Mom believed that actions speak louder than words. You never had to say "I love you" because you lived it every day.  It got to the point where saying the "L" word was just being a big phony, definitely suspect. 

6. "Be good to your mother all year, not just one day." Mom always said Mother's Day was a Hallmark holiday, designed to sell cards, flowers and candy. When I became a mother, she said not to worry about her, because this was now my day, too. Well, my brothers and I took her advice at face value and one year she spent Mother's Day sitting alone on a park bench down the shore. A woman joined her and said, "No children?" Mom replied: "Four." The woman gave her a pitying look and patted her hand.  That's the last year we didn't visit her on Mother's Day!

In honor of my mother, I sincerely wish all mothers and grandmothers lots of "L" word and a very happy day. (because you never know what tomorrow will bring.)

Mom cooking up those soggy veggies!

The family