My turn: Mom Memories - another piece of the 52 year old pie

As much as my sisters are talented I am mediocre.

As you read in my previous guest posts, both of my sisters are extremely talented. It has been obvious to both of them for many years exactly who they were and what they intended to do with their lives and they went out and got it. Erin went into theater. Jennie went into music. Anne is nearly done with her degree in math (I know, we don't know where she came from either). Then there's me, the girl who doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up.

When I was a child my mom would come in and read to us. She loved to read, a past time she passed on to all of her daughters, myself and Jennie especially. We had SOO many books and she would do voices or sing the story as we sang along. But when I hit my obstinate age (around 3 or 4) I decided I would do it myself. So when Mom came in to read I would say "I'm going to do it!" and then sit there looking at the pictures because I had absolutely no idea how to read. This lasted all the way up until first grade when I suddenly realized one day during class that I could read. There was much rejoicing.

The point is, I spent most of my life with an "I'll do it myself! attitude. So while Erin had mom coach her in acting and Jennie was working on her singing I was off trying to figure how best to be as different from my sisters as possible. So unlike Erin and Jennie I do not have a beautiful story about how my mom helped me become who I am or learn what I wanted to do with my life. I acted in college, but not very well. I sing, but really only in a group or on a stage or alone in the house. If anyone appeared when I was singing to myself I would immediately stop or lower my volume till I was merely humming. Unlike Jennie, I didn't want anyone to critique my singing, I just wanted to sing, and I was afraid if anyone heard me they'd try to coach me.

Notice my streak of stubborn independence?

But I will tell you this: my mom gave me her sense of humor, her issues with weight, and her love.

There was one day within the past year when Mom told me a story about her humor. When she first moved here to our town she had a lot of trouble making friends partly because no one understood her humor. Apparently they all thought she was being mean, but she really wasn't! It was just her humor. Similarly, Johnny has told me a few times that if I wanted to be I could be a real b**** (note: he wasn't being mean, this was during a pleasant conversation). But the thing is, I'm not trying to be that way, it's just my humor. I have dry, sarcastic, odd sense of humor. Mom never thought our humor was anything alike because she didn't understand mine at all, but according to others I inherited it from her.

Mom was always working out. She tried almost every fad diet ever created, every workout video, she went walking all the time, she swam, she tried yoga, she tried everything. I remember being a child watching as she wore herself out doing some crazy cardio from The Firm thinking to myself how glad I was that I was naturally thin and that I would never, EVER workout in the family room. Now, however, I do yoga, The Firm, pilates, all of that, and I do that in front of the TV, first in the family room and now in my apartment living room. So much for my promise to myself! I haven't yet stooped to the Adkins or South Beach diet (and as I dislike meat I doubt I ever will), but I do worry about my weight. All the time. And whenever I would mention it to my mom she would give me a look and proceed to tell me that she wished she looked like me because she's just so fat. To which we would all chorus that she is NOT fat and tell her how beautiful she is.

Finally, at church on Sundays mom would get up to tell a story or pray or sing for choir and as she did she would start to cry. A month or so ago she got up to tell about the peace she felt about her illness and she apologized for crying saying that she wasn't sad, she just had a tender heart. This is something I also inherited from my mom. I'll see someone cry, I will cry too. I see someone immersed in worship, my throat would tighten. Mom and I have far more in common than she probably ever thought we did.

Now, I know what all of you are probably thinking. I have read your comments about my writing and I appreciate every single one of them, but I am of the opinion that I am a terrible writer. Mom once told me that I'm the best writer in the family, but that means nothing if we all suck. Plus Mom never helped me hone this skill, I just write what's in my head. So thank you for the sentiment, but I stand by my opinion. And anyway, it keeps me humble.

This does not, by any means, mean I didn't learn from my mom. I learned more than anyone will ever know. And I hate that we have to say goodbye. But the things we learned from her will stay with us forever, and in the end that is all that matters.