FEATURE — And just like that, my mom turned 80. Eight decades of living and loving and rocking lime green leather jackets. She’s our family’s own Iris Apfel, without the black glasses – and with orange lipstick. Orange. Never red. Never pink. Never nude. Only pumpkin or rust.
She’s a woman who makes leopard print suitable for any occasion and who always serves milk from a pitcher. She’s a woman who has friends in every decade and a scripture study group for almost every day of the week. She drives fast. She prays often. And she always has time for a nap.
More than that, she’s the woman who’s taught me almost everything I know about the important things of life.
She taught me to love good books. She carried me off nightly, from under the yellow canopy of my childhood bed, to Heidi’s Alps, Anne’s Green Gables and the jungles of Max and his Wild Things.
She taught me to drink Coke out of a straw and to suck salsa off a chip. Before I could eat anything else – and before I was weaned.
She taught me that my best is good enough, that tomorrow is a new day and that there is a right – and wrong way – to load a dishwasher. And her way is the right way. In fact, everybody just move over and let her load it – it will be easier that way.
She taught me to follow my passions, to invest in my siblings, to make good friends and to love the one you’re with.
Of course, choose wisely who you’re with in the first place. But then love the hell out of them. And also make out with them in the kitchen in front of your children. They’ll appreciate it. Even if they don’t.
She taught me that you can’t pour from an empty cup. That’s true for actual cups and for people. Remember the napping she always has time for? That is part of this.
So are things like hobbies, friends and anything that makes your heart sing. Do those for yourself. And do them first. It’s not selfish. It’s like putting on your own oxygen mask before helping others.
She taught me that it’s not really a fight unless she’s mad at you. And she is never mad. Not really. She lets things go. She doesn’t hold grudges. Life’s too short – and it’s too much work to stay mad at people. There are other important things to do. Like power napping.
She taught me to keep up with current events, discuss politics and to vote your conscience. Sometimes that means canceling out your partner’s vote, which we all knew she did from time to time with my dad. But it never means canceling your partner. Or anyone else. There is room to disagree, discuss and still get along.
My uncle, her younger brother, once remarked to me that my mom is a woman who got everything she ever wanted. And that’s true.
Except if you count all the things that she didn’t: the baby boy she lost to placenta previa before they even knew what that was; the four miscarriages; the ruptured tubal pregnancy; her own mother dying fairly young; her dream house burning to the ground in a wildfire; and all the other little and big heartaches that come with life, love and raising five, headstrong children.
But the thing about my mom is that even when she loses, she still wins.
She pivots. She finds a way forward. She finds the joy in the grief. She makes the best of what is, not what could have been. And by doing so, she always seems to be getting exactly what she wanted. To my uncle’s point.
If, after almost two years of suffering through this pandemic, we all don’t need a little more of getting what we want, I’m not sure what’s true.
So, this one’s for you, mom. May we all be more like you. Except for maybe the orange lipstick – you can keep that for yourself.
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