Week 7: Thanks to My Mom

Getting ready for plumbing

I got to show Sara & Greg around for the first time yesterday! :)

“Mom, just tell me.  Which one would you choose?”

“Mary, this is your decision.  I can’t tell you which one.”

“Just tell me.  Would you go with the white or the dark?”

“Honey, it’s whatever you like.”

“I just want to know what you think.”

I didn’t care if I was being annoying or clingy because if there’s anyone I can be annoying and clingy with, it’s my mom.  She’ll still love me.  And it’s fun to see her get a little irritated with me. 

I was trying to decide on kitchen cabinets.  It felt like I had made a hundred house decisions by myself already, and I just didn’t want to make this one on my own.  My sister Rachel had helped me to see that the cabinets I had originally picked out looked pretty cheap (thanks, Rach, you were right), so I was re-evaluating my options.  Truthfully, I had always thought I wanted white cabinets, but the more I looked at the options, the more I was being pulled over to the dark side.  I dragged Mom with me one afternoon to go look at a showroom of cabinets, but I still couldn’t make my decision.

“Mom, please just tell me.  Which one do you think would be better?”

“Mary, you have to decide.  You’re the one who will be living with it.”

“Ugh, I know.  But just tell me what you think.”

“Fine,” she sighed.  “I’d probably go with the dark cabinets.”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

Mom has never been overbearing or pushy to me.  But I told her that she was the one I trusted most when it came to decisions about my house.  She raised her eyebrows to me like Why? and What do you mean by that?  But I’m a lot like my mom.  My older sisters have a natural eye for décor and design, but Mom and I are a bit more practical, and it takes us longer to mix the beauty in with the practical.  (Thank God my sisters are around to give us help!)

I talked to Mom about my house plans probably every week, and the only one piece of unsolicited advice she gave me was to put a utility sink in my laundry room.  “Trust me, it will be worth it,” she told me.  And I do trust her.

Rough ins for my laundry room

Yesterday was my mom's birthday, and I knew I wanted to write this blog post for her.  It's always good to think about how much I have to thank her for.  From the time I was a little girl, my mom taught me so many things. 

How to tie my shoes.

How to set the table.

How to pick strawberries.  

How to thoroughly wash my hair so the top of my head doesn’t look oily.

How to put the right amount of chocolate syrup on my ice cream.

How to bake banana bread.

How to pluck my eyebrows.

How to change a diaper and take care of babies.   

The real question is…what few things do I now know that I didn’t learn from my mom? Sure, Shari taught me how to put on eye make-up, and my coaches taught me how to spike a volleyball.  Yes, I learned lots from my professors in college, but the truth is that I can function and thrive as a human being because of my mom’s devoted attention to me over the last 26 years.

When my mom was my age (26), she was married with 3 young children.  She had experienced sleepless nights with colicky babies, and for her first 5 years as a mother, she raised her babies 3 states away from all her extended family.  She and my dad moved back to Indiana in their late twenties and took on the responsibility of a new church plant.  Dad was a young senior pastor, and Mom did everything she could to build the church with Dad.  Mom supported Dad when others criticized him.  Mom taught the children’s classes, welcomed new people, and served those who were going through tough situations.  Mom saved her pennies to buy picture frames for her kids’ photos when Dad was not able to take a salary from the church.  Mom then had my brother and me, limping the whole time she was pregnant with us (apparently we caused her constant pain in her hip and leg).  Mom said when she was pregnant with my little brother, she would have to pin my stubborn, squirrely, little 3-year-old self in her arms to force me to take a nap with her. Mom homeschooled my older sisters for a few years, and then she took care of our great-grandfather in our home, making him homemade gravy every morning for 7 years.  And though I don’t remember it, I’m told that I was a difficult, strong-willed child (they say my attitude and behavior were worse than all my siblings put together), so Mom had to discipline me several times a day to teach me to obey and be respectful.  Sorry, Mom.  I can only imagine how that must have worn you out. 

But Mom would still wake up early every morning, and we’d see her reading her Bible at the dining table as we got up.  Even now, she never says anything bad about people and only ever wants to do more to help and encourage others. 

And Mom is hard-core.  She doesn’t do anything halfway.  A few years ago, she ran a marathon with my dad.  26.2 miles.  Dad said that sometimes he would want to slow down in their training, but Mom was the one who would not let them slack.   

So yes, Mom taught me how to get stains out in the laundry and how to make a few meals from scratch.  But she has also taught me how to work hard, how to serve others instead of myself, how to trust God and not complain through tough situations.  She perseveres and never gives up.  It’s like not even 26.2 miles can stop her; she keeps her focus and keeps moving in the right direction.

HVAC action in the ceiling

When I was trying to decide on which house plan to choose, I drove to Columbus because there was a house being built of the model I liked.  The house didn’t even have drywall yet, but when I walked in, I nodded—knowing this is what I was looking for.  I snapped a few photos, and then called Mom as soon as I drove away. 

“I love the layout, Mom! I really think this is the one I want.”

Then I asked my mom and my sister Rachel to come with me a few weeks later to see the house in Columbus again.  I wanted their vote of confidence before I moved forward with this floor plan.  I watched Mom and Rachel as they walked through the house.  They nodded much like I had done when I first saw it, and Mom kept saying to me, “You’ll really like this, Mary.” 

A month or so later, I showed my floor plans to my coworkers.  When I showed it to Paul, he laughed and pointed to my curved kitchen countertop, “Just like your mom’s, huh?” 

I laughed too.  “I guess so!”  The whole time I had looked at floor plans, I had gravitated toward curved countertops.  I hadn’t realized that I was probably subconsciously doing that because my mom has a curved kitchen countertop.

Oh, well, I’m not embarrassed by that.  I’d love to be as much like my mom as possible.  I take great “pride” in that I’m the daughter who looks the most like her.  And if I’m ever any good at taking care of my house, you’ll know why.

You may not know that my mom is hilarious with little children and is sometimes not afraid to let loose on the dance floor.  She is also an amazing gardener. 

I think gardening is Mom’s favorite.  Mom loves running the rototiller, and she loves working outside all day.  She’ll come in the house with a little sunburn, get a drink of water, and she’ll remark that she probably should have been “getting other things done,” but she just wanted to work on her garden today.  Don’t worry about that.  Do your thing, Mom.  We’re all benefiting from it.  For my whole life, I’ve been spoiled with her strawberries, cantaloupe, green beans, green peppers, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, etc.

Yes, do your thing, Mom.  Tend your garden.  Dance your dance.  Laugh your laugh.  Do your thing.  We’re all benefiting from it.