A mom’s story
Mom’s story
Driving back to Texas from Tennessee, I called my mom to see how she was doing. I had about six more hours to drive and I knew it was about time for my mom to be doing her walk (she does 10,000 steps a day) so I wanted to catch her before she left. When I was in North Carolina, she and I walked together, and then after the walk each day, she would make both of us breakfast while I did my weight training in her dining room, and we had fun talking about things going on in the world, as well as talking about her family and her friends, and my family and my friends.
When I called, I had wanted to tell my mom about “The Bay House” in Hattiesburg Mississippi, where I stayed for one night to break up my long drive. Growing up in a large rambling house, in a historic district, I was really excited to have the opportunity to stay in a different house, also in a historic district. While I was there, I was able to walk around in the museum district, and was able to visit The Sacred Heart church for mass at eight on Sunday morning, before I left, and then get a spinach bowl at “the Depot”, a restaurant near the train depot, just around the corner.
“Yoo Hoo” my mom answered the phone (Like my sister Tina does…I do not know who started that, Mom or Tina, but I love it), and I proceeded to tell her all about the house. She was happy I was able to go see it. When she asked about my visit with Heather and Ellie, in Tennessee, I told her about how wonderfully the visit went, because I was there to help Heather while Jonathan was out of town. We had so much fun and it felt more like a vacation than work, and I got to spend a lot of time with Ellie which I cherished.
I told my mom that I was sad, because when I was there the last day, watching Ellie, and I had her on the front outdoor patio, playing in her little inflatable pool, while I watered the plants in pots, she was getting in and out of the pool, and she tripped on her own feet and fell when walking on the concrete, and cut her chin. No one wants to see a baby fall down, and I was grateful she was quick to stop crying and glad her cut was quick to start healing, but I was worried because I knew Heather would be upset for Ellie. That was when my mom told me this story…
“I was about eleven years old, and was one of the middle children of the nine beautiful children my mother had. I was just the right age to help my mom with her twins, Germaine and Russ, as my sisters were older and were teenagers, so they were busy after school. So I was the perfect age to help my mom, when I came home from school, take charge of the twins while my mom would start dinner, take a shower and get a bit of a break.
My older sister Joyce had a friend who would come over to visit her occasionally and she rode this beautiful bike. None of us had a bike growing up, only my brothers had bikes, and so I just loved this pretty bike, that she had. She would let me ride it, but she would only stay for about an hour, and it was during the time that I was watching the twins and I did not want to miss out on a chance to ride the bike.
The bike had a basket attached and it was a large basket, and it was held on by two leather straps. I put the twins both in the basket, facing each other. The twins were not infants but they were still small enough that both of them fit and they loved riding in the basket. So I was on the bike riding and was about a block away when one of the leather straps must have broken and the basket went askew and both twins went tumbling out. One baby had a cut on his head and the other baby had a cut on the finger and something was wrong with my toe, because I was barefoot riding the bike as we never wore shoes when we got home from school.
I started walking back home, left the bike, and was holding one twin on each hip, crying and limping, and by this time my sister Joyce came running out with her friend to help me. There was so much commotion, that when I got into view of my home, my mother was standing in the doorway with just a towel wrapped around her, as the noise had caused her to rush out of the shower.
The point I am making is that I was always there to help my mom when she needed it and that is what mattered. Most of the times I would take the babies, one in each hand and take them to “Sisters of Incarnate Word” school which was just blocks away, and it was where I went to school.
There on the large grounds, I would play with the babies and Sister Gertrude was always walking around the grounds in a large square, praying the rosary, and when she would see me, she would get one of the twins and help me for at least fifteen minutes, talking to me the entire time, and telling me that I was earning “my place in heaven” by being so diligent in helping my mom. She knew it was not an easy job and she would help me entertain the twins because they were a handful.
This Catholic school, now called Incarnate word academy, was where I went until I was in the eighth grade… I now volunteer at the soup kitchen, and even though that is great, it has not opened up again since Covid, and yet I can remember the nuns at Incarnate word EVERY DAY, would make this huge pot of either soup or chili or stew. There would be a line of homeless people around the back of the building, away from the school children, and each person in line would get two scoops of soup and a large crust of bread and then they were sent on their way. This happened daily, for as long as I went to that school.
That day when I fell off the bike, I was so upset about the twins falling that I did not tell my mom that my toe was hurt. I just limped to school, I do not know how I even got my shoes on, and a few days later my mom asked me why I was limping and I said that I thought I hurt my toe and when she took me to the doctor, he said that my toe was broken. “
I really appreciated this insight into my mom’s life as an eleven year old girl. This was not the only story my mom told me about her childhood, the nuns, and the sisters of incarnate word… I found a link to their history and apparently this lovely order of nuns originated in France. https://www.iwbscc.org/our-story/our-history/
My mom has also recently told me this other story about the nuns as well…
“when it was time for me to go for my first day at school in kindergarten, apparently I did not want to go so when my mom would drop me off at school, I would not stay there and would leave and walk back home. My mom would get upset with me and take me back every day but I would just leave, and instead of going home, I would sit on the porch of my aunts Tia Maria and Tia Teresa because then I would not get in trouble for leaving. My aunt would sit with me and would let my mom know I had left school again.
One day, when I had left school, my aunt took me back to the school herself, and she found the nun in charge of my class and spoke to her, and when the nun saw me, she suddenly said that it was time for music class. She said that everyone was going to be part of the band and that each child got to play a musical instrument. My Tia Maria must have told her that I loved music, and this nun got creative about how to help me find something to be interested in at school so that I would stop running back home.
I do not remember if she gave me a drum or a tambourine or some maracas, but I got to march in a circle with the other children and be part of a band and I never left school again after that”.
My mom has gone on to raise five girls and we all adore her, and my mom is still best friends with all her siblings, particularly the twins, and particularly Germaine. Russ just recently passed away, but Germaine and my mom talk daily.
I love how family continues to be important and how my mom is always to this day, still someone who offers to be of service to others, promoting christian values, and helping, particularly when it does not benefit her personally.
When I was helping Heather, she bought me some gorgeous Hoka running shoes, from her mom and dad’s medical supplies store, because I want to start running again, and she gave me some Fiesta ware for the cabin. I was not expecting it but it was a lovely gift, but I think she knows that I would help her anyway because I love being around her and my son and Ellie. She is such a generous and kind person that it makes me always want to help her whenever she needs it.
My son is so grateful to have met Heather, and she is working hard to help support their family doing live wedding paintings, which became a bit more difficult now that she is also a new mom. Being a mom is not an easy job but it is SO worthwhile.
After listening to my mom, I realize that for moms of all ages, even when there were things that were not easy or perfect we can all share stories that are helpful, interesting and heart warming to give others a glad perspective, and help us appreciate others. Because of my mom’s stories, I have a better appreciation of teachers who go out of their way to help little babysitters like my mom. I can better appreciate children who are innocent and represent a wonderful blend of the qualities of the dad and the mom, and I can better appreciate parents who are doing their best to provide a stable and loving home for their children.
All of these people, and their stories, and diverse attributes, are unique gifts from God to us, in the form of family and I am so grateful I had another opportunity to hear my mom’s stories which are rich, endearing, and can provide going litany of cherished memories that link us together, and make us better parents, teachers and children.