The Family Album

I’m jogging my memory by going through the family album capturing snippets of Mom’s life from a teenager at the beach with her girlfriends, to her wedding announcement, to her role as grandmother.

She was so beautiful; still is when you can look beyond the cancer that has changed the shape of her jaw and neck. I wish I had inherited her legs, which have always been slender and shapely even during the higher points of her weight yo-yo. She has always taken pride in her appearance and is always well dressed and coiffed.

I, on the other hand, have fought the pudge all my life. I can remember Mom taking me shopping for clothes as a teenager and helping me find styles that were as flattering as possible. When I was motivated to try to lose weight, Mom even joined The Diet Center with me and we celebrated each other’s half-pound losses and shared recipes (even tofu salad, which was supposed to look and taste like potato salad, but it didn’t fool me). Mutural encouragement to get fit and stay healthy has been a constant part of our weekly phone conversations over the years.

Pictures of Mom with her grandbabies brought back some of my best memories, as well as one of those traumatic incidents that ultimately increased my love and respect for Mom. It was after I had my first son. Mom, who lived close by, wanted to be helpful and asked over and over what she could do. I foolishly thought I could do everything myself and repeatedly turned down her offers. However, within a week of giving birth, I had a particularly bad day – fussy baby, inflamed and sore nipples, and a feeling of being overwhelmed. How could I possibly take care of baby, laundry, meals, husband, or myself? On top of all this typical post-partum dysfunction, I had promised my husband I’d help him with a little project, which under ordinary circumstances would have been no big deal. But on that particular day, Superwoman’s powers failed her.

I called Mom and begged her to come to my rescue. “What? Hold that precious grandson? I’ll be right over!” And she was. And she did. She walked miles through two small rooms trying to soothe that cranky baby while I finished my project and relaxed enough to produce milk for his dinner.

Sue