Do mothers know what is best?

I love my mom. She is an incredibly strong woman. She raised four children and worked in the family business for 25 years during a time when women weren’t supposed to work. She has this strength that I knew had been passed down from generation to generation; my great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mom, me and my own daughters. And that strength mixed with the old wives’ tales, the cooking, and Mom’s own worries and fears for her family … too much, so I must add.

Mom married young. She met my father when she was fourteen and never looked back. She raised babies with Karo syrup and formula, changed cloth diapers and plastic panties, washed us clean after we played in the mud all day, prepared the four children, her husband and herself for church every Sunday, and even fell. Down a flight of stairs from the church basement with my newborn brother in my arms. As he rolled through the entire stretch, he kept him safe and sound. She didn’t know it at the time, but she had broken her hip. Now he walks with a distinctive little limp where he found that in his later years he had completely healed. This may sound like most moms in days gone by, but mom also took care of her own mom when she was eight and even cooked for her little brother. They thought mum’s mother was pregnant, but after two years and no baby, but with a growing stomach, it was much worse. He had a water tumor that weighed more than twenty-five kilos. Not believing in doctors back then, everyone expected her to just bounce back. Mom and her grandmother took care of the house. Mom worked in a peach factory at the age of nine to help the family. Finally, her mother had to operate, but they could not move her, so the operation was performed at home. While mom was at school, she wasn’t sure if her mom would be alive when she returned that day. Her mother lost thirty kilos that first day and then she was transferred to the hospital.

Mom returned to a “normal” life after that, but inside she had already begun to form her own perceptions about life and those perceptions carried over to raising her own children.

Mom and Dad have lived with Lee and I since Peanut was born. Peanut is almost thirteen years old and has been fortunate to have been raised by two generations of women.

I find myself laughing now at some of the things my mom used to tell me that I thought were true. I found that part of Mom’s wisdom was born out of fear and the need to know all the answers, even if she didn’t.

I arrived last. I was the baby of the family. Mom was so excited that I was a girl. Mom had a hard time with me during labor, but why wouldn’t she? He had a broken hip and had no idea. She retells the story on the eve of my birthday every year: “You just weren’t going out. You were stuck. The doctor used forceps and everything. The doctor said there was nothing else I could do and they were preparing me for surgery. I screamed. “God, Universe, Angels … Whoever is there, give it a jerk!” Then I yelled: “I’m your mother and you better listen to me … come out … NOW!” as if he had heard what he said, he said that from that moment I have always wanted to stay on the inside than in the physical world.

We get along really good. Like a pair of girlfriends glued to the hips. We have a lot of fun when we go to town and eat Chinese cuisine together. You need my arm to get from here to there. You will not use a cane and you will not go to any store that does not have a basket to lean on. You don’t want anyone to think that you can’t do your best at your age, which is eighty.

He loves to overcomplicate a simple experience. It does not arise from wanting to be too complicated; It comes from not wanting to “bother” you in any way. If we decide where to eat, she asks over and over if I want to go somewhere else: “We don’t have to go there. We can go here if you want. I mean, Chinese sounds good, but if not, it sounds good to you … “

“It’s great mom. I like Chinese.”

“Me too, but maybe you don’t feel like it today, although I do. Your dad loves Chinese. We could always go with him when you bring him into town for his doctor’s appointment.”

Sigh …

When we drive, she grabs the handle and yells, “Oh!” every few minutes. You have poor eyesight, and that eyesight makes things seem closer than they are.

“Where are we going? You’ve never been this way before,” he says as if he’s doing something wrong.

“We go this way all the time, Mom.”

“Well … I guess I’m nuts then. I have no idea where we are. Are you sure …?”

Sigh …

She insists on buying me candy when I help her like I’m a child. This makes me totally laugh. Don’t get me wrong, I love sweets, but I don’t eat much anymore, especially since I’ve lost weight, but Mom doesn’t care about that. She always tells me that I am too thin and that if I lose more weight I will look older than I am and that I will look haggard.

“It’s just not healthy, Bethie.”

Sigh …

“Bethie? I made some pinto beans with ham and bacon. You’ll eat them, right?”

She doesn’t seem to remember that I haven’t eaten pinto beans since I was a child. Then I got a tummy ache and it still hurts.

“You don’t like my beans, do you? Well … you know that beans don’t make you fat? They just give people gas … that’s it. I’ve figured out how to stop beans from making people fart on you “. to know. “

I can feel laughter rising to my throat. I keep it together. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.

“How is mom?”

“You dip them in baking soda.”

Sigh …

“Did you know that vinegar cures EVERYTHING? If you only drink one cup of vinegar every day, you won’t get cancer.”

I don’t say a word. He had cancer and is in remission. Drink a cup of vinegar every day.

“Bethie? You know what drives me crazy? When your dad sneezes. I’m afraid he’ll blow his mind one day. You know … that happens sometimes.”

Stay down laugh.

“Bethie? I always heard that as a man got older, he didn’t feel like doing it anymore. You know what I mean urgently, right?”

I nod, hoping he doesn’t go any further on the subject.

“STILL grabbing my ass. Can you believe it?”

Yes, I can believe it. Since his attack, he does it in front of all of us all the time.

“You know … I love that old jerk. I wouldn’t take a million for him, but I wouldn’t take a penny for another.”

I must say that living with my parents is a wonderful experience. They make me laugh every day of my life, whether on purpose or not.

I know all your worries, all your stories, all your complaints; all your questions are part of it. And I’ll take it all for a few more years with this wonderful woman I call ‘mom’.

As I cut the breakfast of the guinea pigs, Mom comes up behind me and gives me a big hug, “I love you, little girl.”

“I love you too mom.”

“Can I feed the piglets?”

I hand him the tray full of vegetables. It is one of his favorite activities. She walks into the guinea pig room with that cute limp, holds the lettuce in the air, and giggles like a little girl as they lift up her little starfish legs.

My mom … one in a million … I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

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