Since this blog is devoted primarily to my childhood, it only makes sense that I should recognize Mother’s Day. After all, you can’t have a childhood without a mom. Now, I have mentioned my mother in this blog before, so I am not venturing into new territory. I wish I had some incredibly amusing anecdotes to share, but I do not. I have mostly very mildly amusing anecdotes. Nothing outrageous ever happened in our household.
My mom is a world-class neat freak, which is odd because I am somewhat of a slob. I recall that she would often try to get us kids to at least meet her halfway in the housekeeping department. She had decided that she would no longer put our laundry away, but, instead, place it at the edge of our beds for us to put in our closets and bureaus. I am not proud of the fact that most of mine ended up on the floor after being kicked there when I went to sleep at night. If I had a time machine, I think the first thing I would do is go back and make a point of being a little more cooperative towards my mother. I honestly can’t think of a better use for such a device.
Oh, back to my anecdote. My mom was famous for cleaning in stealth mode. Seriously, it was like things got cleaned constantly, but you did not always see it happening. Once in my late teens I had gone into the kitchen to make a baloney sandwich. I placed a small plate on the counter and turned to retrieve the food from the refrigerator. When I looked back to find my plate it was nowhere to be found. I had not heard a sound nor seen anyone. I paused for a moment and wondered if I had actually even taken the plate from the cupboard, then I knew what had happened. “Mom”, I yelled,”did you just put a plate in the dishwasher?” She walked back into the kitchen and replied in the affirmative. I just started laughing and told her I had not even used it yet. I have no idea how she could have moved that quickly and that quietly, but she did. I guess you had to have some sort of super powers to keep ahead of five kids and a husband.
I made the mistake of telling my wonderful wife Beth of my mom’s incredible cleaning prowess. This served only to create major panic in her over the possibility of being judged as lacking in the housekeeping department. Any time my parents were scheduled to come over, poor Beth would spend hours trying to make sure the place was clean and neat enough. Unfortunately, this usually consisted of just shoving everything in sight into the spare bedroom. She would often get quite upset that I was not more concerned about making a good impression on my parents, especially my mom. I informed her that I was pretty sure my mom knew I was a slob and there was no reason to try and deceive her. That never went over too well.
What I meant to tell Beth was that my mom was too sweet to ever pass judgement on someone and even if she were not, she had to be thrilled that it was now someone else’s turn to clean up after me. I think that if I were to start cleaning up after myself now, it could be insulting to my mother. After all, it would be like saying I could do this for my wife but not for my dear mother. So, I guess my sloppiness, in a way, is a tribute to my mom.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! (You’ll be happy to know there is a pile of laundry at the end of my bed.)