Mothers’ Day

I remember the day like a scene from my favorite movie.  Annie and I hadn’t been married a year yet.  She was attending the University of Missouri in Columbia and close to earning her Bachelor of Science in Horticulture with an emphasis in Floriculture.

She met me at the door when I got home from work.  The big grin on her face was nothing out of the ordinary.  Nor was the big hug she gave me after running to meet me.

But what she said was.

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Annie told me she had been walking to her pickup truck after classes when she felt something unusual.  She described it as feeling like a little butterfly was flapping its wings in her stomach.

We were going to be parents.

Annie can be defined in a lot of different ways, depending on who you ask.  She finished her studies after getting that BS in Horticulture then adding a Masters Degree in Business Management.  That’s what UMC would say she is.

She’s the Dean of Student Services and that’s how many at Three Rivers College would identify her.  Her co-workers would say she is one of the friendliest, hardest-working people there.  Students at the college would either say she is sweet-natured and willing to do anything to help them succeed, or that she is stubborn, hard-hearted, and mean.  Of course, that depends on whether they are good students or trouble-makers.  President of the college would say she is a valued member of the faculty, one who is intelligent, quick-thinking, solution-oriented, and imminently dependable.

I would say my wife is stubborn, bull-headed, and opinionated…when we disagree.  She’s gentle, loving, kind-hearted, and always willing to laugh at a good joke, but totally unable to repeat it.  She is unpretentious and the most unselfish, least self-centered person I know.  She no longer wants to make a career out of caring for plants, but she still loves them…boy, does she still love them.  The jungle in and around our house proves that.

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Annie has a lot of love to give.  She loves her brother and sister and, of course, her mother and deceased father.  She loved my parents like her own, and rendered much of their care in their declining years.  She loves me; I can’t imagine anyone else who would have put up with me for these almost forty years.

More than any of those and, believe me, she loves all the above very, very much…she loves her children.  From even before she felt that butterfly tickling her “innards” Annie has been, number one and above all others, a mother…and not just a run-of-the-mill mother either.  Oh no.

Annie and I made six, strong, healthy sons.  From the beginning, she shouldered the lion’s-share of the parenting duties.  Oh, I was willing to do more than I actually did, but she was just so much faster than I was.  When the sound of a baby crying pierced the night, she was out of bed before I realized what was going on.  When a thump was followed by a scream, she’d shoulder past me without even realizing I was in her way.

Through all the tears wiped, all the diapers changed, all the sick babies, all the broken hearts, all the boy fights broken up, I never heard her complain.  I did see her cry though.  Besides the obvious, when my parents died, and when her father passed away she cried when her boys were hurt, especially the broken hearts.  But the boys didn’t see it.

Annie is incredibly strong too.  Oh, not physically.  She’s not a weight-lifter, but she can bear more pain, disappointment and pure hard work than anyone else. 

She went from 1984 to 2018 without sleeping.  That’s from the time Scotty (eldest) was born until Patrick (youngest) moved out.  Honestly, I’m not sure she has slept yet.

All hyperbole aside, Annie has always been there for the boys.  Oh, she’s there for me, but she’ll quickly tell me to man-up and deal with my problems, but she’ll talk to the boys for hours if that’s what it takes. 

Of course, she’ll then probably tell them to man-up and deal with it too.

You see, Annie discovered long ago that sometimes the hardest thing for a mom to do is…nothing. 

Many parents today think they must protect their kids from any and all pain, disappointment, even unpleasant words.  Those parents give kids participation trophies. 

Annie would tell them, “Life doesn’t give participation trophies.”

When the weather is bad and you don’t have an umbrella, you go to work or you lose your job.

Mommy won’t be there to coddle you and protect you all your life.

Don’t get me wrong, Annie gave a lot of hugs, kissed a lot of “boo boos”, and held little boys who were crying, but she also kept in mind that she wasn’t raising them to be little boys all their lives; she was raising them to be men, to be strong husbands to their wives, to be good fathers to our grandkids.

Now we have six strong, self-sufficient sons who don’t need us for anything.  Yet, tomorrow, on Mothers’ Day, Annie will get phone calls from all six sons who will tell her how much they love her and how glad they are that they had a mom who loved them enough to teach them to be tough, like…Mom.

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We will soon welcome our thirteenth grandchild.  Annie wants the grands to be tough too, but that’s not her job.  Oh, she’ll explain to them why their dads don’t over-pamper them or protect them from every little discomfort and unpleasantness, but she’s more than happy to play dolls or tractors with them for hours, or read bedtime stories until “just one more” extends into the night.

Being Mom was difficult at times, but being Granny is a lot more fun.

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Happy Mothers’ Day, Annie.  I love you more than I can ever say, and I truly believe there can be no better Mom in the whole world.  Your reward is being Granny.

I also want to wish Happy Mothers’ Day to all the other Moms, Grannys, Great Grannys, etc. out there.  It’s your day; you deserve it.  Now enjoy it.

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