During therapy many people often blame their parents for all their screw ups in life. I was guilty of this during my years in therapy (that they were blamed for me being there in the first place too). but today I want to blame my mother. I love my mother dearly and she is a hero in my eyes. She raised my brother and I whilst working outside of the home; none of this "stay-at-home mom" BS. She worked full time (and so did my father) would come home, cook fresh meals daily (because God forbid my father eat leftovers, *gasp*), clean the house (it's like living in a museum, although we are still waiting for the Pope to come over so we can eat in the fancy dining room), do laundry, and all the other chores that a mother has. She could never really help me with my science homework, but never missed a Christmas concert or a school play and always made time to take me swimming at the local pool. She's fantastic! Why blame her then, you may ask? Well, when I was about 12 years old she decided that it was time for me to stop dragging her around to the pools (I think she was getting bored watching me splash around) and she started noticing that I started having friends come over (another *gasp*). Her way of keeping me entertained (sans annoying preteen friends) was to teach me how to crochet.
At 12 I was making little crochet doily hats that we would starch, decorate and hang on EVERY door handle in the house. I was in doily hell, but my mother was in heaven as she had just taught her daughter how to do something that she could now relate to - no doubt a proud moment in her life. Unfortunately for me and my youth, I enjoyed this hobby and continued crocheting. I have given up the doilies and have moved on to bigger and better things - afghans that take 10 times longer to complete and are loved by every member of the extended family! Funny how aunts put in their orders for Christmas in the spring and expect me to drop every moment of my spare time and social engagem... ok, I know, I don't have any qualms about giving up my social life to hang out with my needle and yarn, but they don't need to know that! I quickly filled my book shelves with crochet books and new patterns for colourful afghans and scarves. She freaked out about how much money I was spending on this hobby and was always giving me grief. So I put my crochet needle down occasionally these days to appease her, but I still say "Mom, it's all YOUR fault!"
Later into my 20s my mother decided that I needed a new hobby, the afghans were starting to pile up in the linen closet and there was already one draped over every bed and couch in the house. She decided that every woman should know how to cook. Here we go! Unfortunately for me (and my already rapidly decreasing social life) I accepted this new hobby with open arms and a new empty book shelf that I had no trouble filling 20 wide and 2 deep with books. She would freak out on me every time I bought a new cook book or subscribed to a new cooking magazine. "Stop spending your money on these books, you have enough!" she says to me. Everyone knows that when you start a new hobby you have to have all the latest and greatest, so I paused my book fetish and started buying equipment - waffle maker, mixers, spatulas, bowls, muffin tins, cake pans, the list goes on. The television was permanently set to the Food Network and it was Chef at Home, French Food at Home, Anna Olsen's Fresh and Rachel Ray morning, noon and night; cue cards and pens would come out and recipes cards were now the trend. Our kitchen is FILLED with rubbermaid containers filled to the brim with recipes from magazines, television shows and the occasional Martha Stewart cookie book I would sneak home. I can tell she loves the fact that she shares a kitchen with me, especially when I come home with cookie and cake orders at Christmas time - her qualm then is, "this is costing me electricity!" My response to her is, "Mom, it's all your FAULT!!"
**Today's blog is dedicated to my mother...
Even though you will never learn how to turn on a computer let alone find and read my blog, know that I love you and appreciate everything that you have done for me and have taught me. I am the woman that I am because of you. xoxo
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