Relationships – Page 10

My Mom is a Rock Star

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a study lounge area, trying to cram for a test before class and eavesdropping on a conversation between friends. Some things they were talking about caught my eyes.

Such as…
“My mom told me last week that she’s disappointed with me. I have no idea why!”

And…
“I told my mom I wanted an iPod Touch for my birthday. Then she told me she’s getting me something better than an iPod Touch but what’s better than an iPod Touch? My car, my phone, and my laptop are all new so it can’t be either of them.”

The first comment struck me as extremely sad because let’s face it: I have the best mom on the planet. She has supported me in every area of my life. She’s giving, loving, and humble. I had a tough time telling her about my decision to change my major from elementary education to journalism but she has supported me every step of the way. When the financial aid office told me I had taken too many classes and would deny me any more aid? Well, she put her “Mama Bear – Don’t Mess With My Child” gameface on and called up everyone but the governor to find out why I wasn’t getting aid and how I could get aid.

And when we realized that I wouldn’t get any aid, she took a deep breath and told me I would still go to school and get a journalism degree. We would work it out. There is nobody in my life who supports or believes in me as much as my mom does.

My mom was a single mom for most of my childhood. She didn’t divorce my dad until I was in 5th grade but my dad was too busy spending his money on gambling and drugs and alcohol to ever support us. My mom was the one to put the work into being a mother – and a father. And she did a damn good job.
But we struggled a lot. I learned at a young age the value of money. I worried at a young age, whether or not we would be evicted from our next apartment. I worried if we would have dinner that night or presents under the Christmas tree. I almost never asked my parents if I could join Girl’s Scouts or baton twirling or cheerleading. Those things cost money. (Although, to be honest, I did do cheerleading once in 4th grade and again in 10th grade. Thanks, Mom!)

I didn’t get a car for my 16th birthday. I didn’t get a cell phone until I was 17. I relied on financial aid, scholarships, and loans to get me through college. I didn’t even own an iPod until I bought one for myself when I was 19. (And I never got a Barbie Jeep! The injustice!)

But, you know, at the end of the day? Those things don’t matter all that much to me. It would be nice to have my own car and have tons of money. But I wouldn’t learn important values like love, support, responsibility, and commitment. I could choose my mom, someone who can’t buy me everything my heart desires but desperately wants to. Or I could choose to have another mom, who could buy me everything but wouldn’t give me the love and support I crave.
My mom is my best friend. And when I say that, I truly mean it. We do everything together. I have the best times with her and we have so many inside jokes. We have the same morals, values, and sense of humor. We like the same TV shows. We even dress alike. And maybe she won’t be buying me a brand-new car for my birthday but I would take spending the day with her, creating more memories and laughter, over a thing.

Honestly, she is the best mom anyone could ever ask for. She raised me up right and managed to create two amazing people, who had all the odds stacked against them. A broken home, money issues, and a father who was in prison for a lot of our teenage years. And the fact that we never turned to drugs, became party animals, or promiscuous? It’s all due to my mom.

Categories: Relationships

I Remember…

My grandma is the quintessential grandmother. She is loving, sweet, and my #1 fan. She always takes my sides in debates between me and my mother. She’s an amazing woman of God and I just wish I had half her faith. She raised 6 kids and is currently raising her 14-year-old twin granddaughters, which is something I do not envy her on. My grandma is an amazing lady and I have so many sweet memories with her.

I remember marshmallow fluff and peanut butter on crackers. I remember late night chats, sipping hot chocolate for me and hot tea for her. I remember having special Sundays with my grandparents when I would get to spend the hours between morning and night church with them and only them. I remember playing grocery store, where she would get out Pops’ printing calculator. We would label prices for all the food and then go to town buying from the “store.” I remember seeing her beaming face at all of my graduations and big events. I remember laughter, tears, inspiration, love. I remember support, gentleness, sweetness, and heart.

I remember finding out on Tuesday, May 6th at work that my grandma was in the hospital, scheduled to have surgery to have her appendix removed. I remember finding out later in the day that, after a bevy of tests, the doctors had realized it wasn’t her appendix but a tumor growing in her colon. I remember sitting in the waiting room during her surgery the next day. I remember finding out that the tumor had been removed but it was malignant. I remember being in the room when my mom told her she had cancer. I remember the peace I felt, knowing cancer could not keep my grandma down. I remember seeing my grandma lose pound after pound, transforming her from my plump and soft grandma to a frail woman I barely recognized. I remember loving how her spirit never changed – she relentlessly pursued after God. I remember the utter relief I felt when a PET scan revealed no cancer in her body on October 14. I remember being the one to serve my grandma, instead her serving me (like she had every holiday before), on Christmas Day, just one day after she finished her last round of chemotherapy.

I remember seeing my grandma transform, slowly, back into the woman I used to know. I remember the first time she went out to a restaurant since starting her treatment. I remember her strength coming back and her faith stronger than ever.

—

My grandma had a PET scan in March, which came back clean. She just had another PET scan, one year after her first one, last Thursday. This whole week, I have prayed and prayed for good results. And they were! My grandma, my amazing, beautiful, inspiring grandmother, has been cancer-free for one entire year. I can’t tell you how awesome and wonderful this news is!

It’s amazing that my grandma, in her late 60’s, managed to beat Stage IV colon cancer! I’m sure it felt like a death sentence for her, but I had this all-encompassing peace that my grandma would beat cancer. She is such an integral part of our family that I just couldn’t imagine God taking her away from us. She’s way too important to us. She’s way too important to me.

Categories: Relationships

I Miss My Dad

This November will mark 2 years since I’ve spoken to my father. He’s not dead (at least, not that I know of) but he just doesn’t feel as if I’m an important part of his life anymore.

And I miss him. I miss the good guy he could be. My dad has his fair share of bad qualities. He’s a gambler and he let it overtake his life and destroy his marriage and his life. He’s an alcoholic. He cannot hold a steady job. He thinks he’s always right and constantly berates those who don’t agree with him. And he’s been in and out of jail for most of my life.

But when you take all of that away, he’s an amazing good guy. He has the best sense of humor. He is so friendly and can strike up a conversation with anyone. And he’s so much fun to watch sports with.

Picture Chris Farley. Take away about 100 pounds. Add thinning dark brown hair. You’ve got my father. And he has Chris Farley’s sense of humor to a tee. And I definitely inherited his sense of humor. On a weekly basis, my mom tells me after I make a funny face or say something witty, “Wow. That was your dad right there.” It makes me miss him even more.

Both my brother and I are sick of my dad. He has spent way too much time taking from us and never giving us anything. He promised us so many things and never followed through. He never supported my brother and I once in our life. I decided I would test my dad after my birthday in 2006. I was going to wait for him to call me. I wasn’t going to call him first. And I’m still waiting.

But if he called me tonight and told me he was sorry, I think I would forgive him. It would be tough and I would make him work for it. But I’d forgive him. I want him back in my life. The good dad. The man I waited with at amusement parks as my brother and my mom rode the rollercoasters, who entertained me to no end. The man who could always make me crack a smile, even when I was in the worst mood. The man I curled up against as we watched movie after movie, knowing, without a doubt, that he would keep me safe.