I just woke up from a dream in which Mom was the old Mom, the pre-FLD Mom who was the most capable person on the planet. In the dream, I was moving into a home that I had pre-inherited from my parents -- or maybe they were moving lots of their stuff after downsizing into my home, which has already happened -- and the rooms were crowded and cluttered.
Typically ridiculously hard-working, Mom helped me clean them all out, then swiped on a coat of paint for good measure.
To say that it was hard to wake up is an understatement. Not that I need the cleaning help, because as everyone knows, I just keep my house basically empty so I don't have to clean much. It's just that I was complaining about the mess, and she was rolling her eyes, and then she jumped to make me feel better. My Dad does that often, and my husband sometimes, too (unless the demand is completely unreasonable, and it often is, I'll admit) -- but nobody to such a degree as Mom.
One episode comes to mind. Mood rings were cool in my fifth-grade class. One day, everyone had them -- except for me. Mom took me to the drugstore after a minimum of whining on my part -- no rings. She went one further and took me to the mall, where we successfully purchased the meaningful piece of junk. She was also famous for buying, at the last minute, something I was coveting on a shopping trip. Or I couldn't decide between two things, and she'd buy me both. "Your mom is a sucker," she'd say. Or, "It's a treat from your mommy. I love you, sweetheart."
I can see this legacy in the way I spoil my own kids, and I'm not altogether sure it's a bad thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment