Sunday Post 117: Love My Mom

I have such wonderful memories with my mom, and we’re still working on building more!

I remember her, as the preacher’s wife, sitting on the front row of our church.  Very few others would sit that close to the pulpit so we often had our pew to ourselves.  As a young kid, when it neared sermon time, I’d sprawl out, legs stretched out, thumb heading toward my mouth.  I’d plunk my head in mom’s lap.  She’d scratch my head.  Sometimes I’d curl up in a ball.  It’s as if I were in my own bed.  Wouldn’t wake up until she stood for the Doxology!

As a young teenager, I once coaxed my mom into running around the car with me at a stoplight.  I begged and begged, it was very in at the time.  She finally relented.  We pulled up, each of us jumped out of the car.  One lap around and I was back at the passenger seat.  Interestingly, my mom was nowhere to be seen.  As I walked to the front of the car, I found her laying face down on the pavement.  Apparently her red sandal high heels weren’t meant for running on gravel.  She ripped her hose and laughed and laughed.

Another time, when I was in high school, we were in the car on our way to a southern Baptist covered dish  dinner.  Mom had me hold the Corningware pot of field peas, just taken off the stove.  She wasn’t known for her driving prowess,  and her short frame kept her from fully seeing at intersections.  The one at the corner of Marlborough Road and Village Drive slipped up on her that day.  She braked hard.  Scalding pea juice poured into my lap.  She got tickled.  I bit my lip to ease the pain.  Went home and had to pull down my pants to see if anything had melted away.

I can’t count the number of times my mother and I got tickled in church.  Weddings were the worst.  Once we were at a 3rd cousin’s wedding in rural South Carolina.  As the Kimball organ started playing Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady, we lost it.  The more I laughed, the more she laughed.  My grandmother was mortified.  We were used to it, this wasn’t our first.

I’m forty-seven, and I still call to chat.  I still want her opinion.  She’s my go to with problems.  Yeah, I love my mom.

As good as these memories are, my joy on Mother’s Day is hampered by the knowledge that my girls won’t get to experience that same connection with their mom.  They have some, but simply not enough.

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15 Comments

  1. Sweet memories,really….

    Reply
  2. Very sweet and wonderful post…

    Reply
  3. sweet memories…the same that I have for my mom, who doesn’t live anymore…

    Reply
    • Danny Tanner

       /  May 12, 2013

      I guess a lot of things can be taken from you, but not those memories, huh?

      Reply
  4. Alma Cutler

     /  May 12, 2013

    Glad you remember all the good times with your mom, she is one special lady.

    Reply
  5. April

     /  May 12, 2013

    There aren’t enough wonderful words in the English language to describe your Mom. She’s the absolute best! And you already know how very blessed you are.

    Reply
  6. Aunt Susan

     /  May 12, 2013

    Sadly the girls won’t have their mom, but they have yours! and their Nana too. It can’t make up for missing their mom , but it helps.
    and your not to bad yourself!

    Reply
  7. Evie Lichti

     /  May 13, 2013

    I always heard that if a girl wants to know how she’ll be treated as a wife, watch how her boyfriend treats his mother. I know your girls watch what you do, and your Mom is a pretty good example as well. Blessings and love to you all – Evie

    Reply
  8. Carolanne

     /  May 13, 2013

    Oh my gosh! I remember that yellow car of hers with the plush red interior!! Taking us to lunch during school….those were the days. You have an awesome mom. There are so many things I remember about her. Tell her I said Hi! My mom says Hello to you. I miss you buddy.
    Carolanne

    Reply
    • Danny Tanner

       /  May 16, 2013

      Yes – we called that car ketchup and mustard! I’ll tell her – and best to your mom as well!

      Reply
  9. Sharon Padgett

     /  May 14, 2013

    They may not have a lot of memories for Mother’s Day, but they will have a gut busting Father’s Day! It takes a strong man to be a father but it takes a bad ass dad to be a mom too! And that is you Bruce ham! Press on!

    Reply
  1. Sunday Post: Mother’s Day | SC Surf Butler

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