For My Beautiful Mom, Happy Birthday!

During my Baptism, the priest upon bringing me up from the 2nd dunk, prior to immerging me for the 3rd dunk  looked at my father and said, "you can't deny this one, she looks just like you."  Both my mom and dad share this recollection, thus, I know it is true.

For most of my life, I was the spitting image of my father, as I got older more his family's side in general.  Most people at the church his family attended for years knew me as one of them on site.  At Vatra (church camp) the other parents would know I was related to the family, of the children they knew from childhood, when my jelly shoes and pony tail got out of the car.

When I was in junior high I was sitting watching a little league baseball game in my uniform waiting for my coach.  There were two women a few "seats" away from me talking.  I overheard part of their conversation-- "...the woman with the sunglasses and long hair, she's beautiful.  I looked over, my mom was sitting a few feet away, she must have just arrived for my game.  I asked the women, "excuse me are you talking about that woman there?" Yes, they said.  "That's my mom", I said.  The one woman smiled and the other looked at me and after a brief pause said "yes, yes I see she is".

I can't remember my exact age (high school years), but I do remember seeing it.  I looked in the mirror, and I saw it.  I had her nose. The little bump about half way down, was just like hers.  For the next several weeks, I would look at it long and hard when I washed my face or put make up on.  Hmm, I do resemble her, I would think.  So I have some Moore genes, I would think.

Years later, I would find myself doing laundry at 2am during the few hours Gabriel, the baby, was sleeping.  It occured to me, I had turned into her.  The only other person I knew that did laundry at 2am after a long day was my mother.  The only difference was I wasn't cooking a dinner as well for the babysitter (the term nanny didn't exist in the middle class yet) to warm up the next evening, while she was at work.

A few years later, we would rent a house across the street from my mother's parents. Gabriel was a toddler, so he has limited memories of the house, but he does remember the gumballs (see previous post) at his great-grandparents house.  After we bought our house, we would visit. At some point during this time period, a picture, the only picture of my mom and her 9 siblings would appear above my grandparent's entertainment system. My grandma immediately showed it to me upon it's framing and showcase in her house.  "Look at this picture", she said, smiling.  I saw myself, I saw myself with 9 siblings of various ages around me.  I stared at my mother.  Later, Gabriel was shown the picture and his response was "mom, who are those kids and babies with you and where was I?". 

Over the course of  years, I have not only grown into looking more like my mom, but I have also grown into her unconditional love, exhasperating caring (my nieces and nephew "lovingly" refer to me as grandma sometimes), overly worrying ways, and dedication to children (in her case two, in mine one).

My mom has shaped the woman I am, the lioness mother, the dedicated professional, the helper of others.  There will definitely be a place for her in Heaven, I can only hope she will argue with God enough to get me there too.  Somehow, I think she will prevail.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  You are amazing in more ways than you will ever know.  You are my inspiration every day and I can only hope I leave this Earth giving it as much as you have.

Closed for Business, The End of Dirty Mondays

For a few months, Dirty Mondays "the establishment" hasn't seen much action. Gabriel, "the owner" has moved onto other activities.  However, he assured me he was not ready to give it away.  I inquired on several occassions.

I rearranged a few items in our kitchen (see blog entitled "Dirty Mondays") and as a result "the establishment" was to be relocated to the playroom.  However, the husband, "the father", relocated "the establishment" to the garage.

"The owner" asked several times regarding the whereabouts of "the establishment", wanting confirmation "the establishment" was indeed still in our possession. He confirmed on multiple occassions he would like "the establishment" relocated to the playroom.   I mentioned this several times to "the father".  He did not seem phased or at all interested. 

I tried to move "the establishment" to the playroom.  This proved to be challenging due to our stairs (and the fact that "the establishment" stands nearly as tall as me).  Obviously, a large plastic kitchen that lasts 7 years is a pretty serious piece of plastic. As a result, "the establishment" stayed in the garage.  "The owner", must have noticed it more and more as he stopped inquiring regarding its whereabouts.  "The father" became even less interested in hearing about the relocation procedure needed for "the establishment".

I know what you are thinking.  "The owner" didn't notice it anymore than he had previously.  He just outgrew it.

I know what you are thinking, "the owner" is almost 10 years old.  Double digits.  

I know what you are thinking.  My ill fated attempt to move "the establishment" was a last ditch effort to hold onto my little boy.

I know what you are thinking.  "The father" was not at all interested in the relocation because he was aware "the establishment" would not be relocating, but would be closing.

I know what you are thinking.  The tears running down my face are pathetic.

Dirty Mondays is gone.  There will be no more birthday hats, even when it's not your birthday. 

Dirty Mondays is gone. There will be no more cheap meals, but expensive desserts. 

Dirty Mondays is gone.  There will be no more pizza girl. 

Dirty Mondays is gone.  The tears streaming down my face are full of memories.