My Mommy Tribute: O is for Organist

I am the only person outside of my family that I know who is the daughter of an organist. I even grew up with an organ in my house. My mother learned how to play when she was a young girl. Her first job playing the organ began when she was 16 years old. She continued playing in various churches for 50 years. When she was let go from her last job, it was very difficult for her, because it was her life.

Mom had perfect pitch. She could hear if you hit a wrong note and would come running to correct you. She could also tell if an instrument was out of tune and it made her cringe. I have inherited that from her on some level. I can identify a note being off-key and it hurts my ears. I just cannot play as well as she did. I never bothered with much practicing.

Mom would practice songs for church and weddings by playing on the organ we had in our living room. Sometimes she would then move over to the piano for a different sound. Every once in a while, she would have a friend come over and they would play organ and piano duets. Every Christmas season, Mom would gather us around the organ and play Christmas carols.

We were allowed to play the piano as much as we liked. We were more restricted from the organ. When I was a kid, that annoyed me. Looking back, though, I guess I can understand why.

Mom always loved to tell stories about my sister and I and the organ. Apparently when I was really little, she had to bring me with her to a funeral. I kept changing the stops and messed up the songs. (Ooh! Button! I wanna push the button!) My sister was once sitting next to her on the organ bench during a church service. Suddenly there was this humming sound, and no one knew what it was. My sister had fallen face-first onto the keyboard.

My mother's style of playing the organ was so much her own that to this day, I have a hard time listening to another church organist during a service. Most of them make lots of mistakes and I cringe. Mom was enough of a perfectionist where that almost never happened. She was an excellent musician.

My Mommy Tribute: N is for Norma

My mother's name is Norma. Here is what various sites have to say about her name's origin and meaning.

From BabyNames.com:

The origin of Norma is English and means "from the North." It was most popular in 1950

From Think Baby Names:

The origin is Latin. It means "the standard or the norm."

From Baby Names World:

The Gaelic origin of this name means "Thor mind, Thor courage."

From Dictionary.com:

The name Norma is also a small constellation between Scorpio (or Lupus) and Ara. In the medical profession, it can be "A line or pattern defining the contour of a part, especially of various aspects of the cranium."

My Mommy Tribute: M is for Mommy

I guess I never really got past calling my mom "Mommy." Sure, I went through those teenage years where I wanted to be more grown up and referred to her as "Mom." And there were those moments of exasperation where she became "Ma." But after moving 400 miles away, she became Mommy again.

What is it about her that makes her "Mommy"? Well, she would always try to take care of my boo-boos, no matter how little nor how big. These could have been as insignificant as a stubbed toe or as big as surgery or a heartbreak. She spent hours with me when I was sick, even via phone at 4 in the morning when I was in my 30s. Like I mentioned in a previous post, she would even drive those 400 miles at the drop of a hat if it meant she could take care of me.

I often find myself crying for her when I am sick or hurt. How many times do you say, "I want my mommy!" and actually mean it? There is just something comforting about knowing she was there to take care of you, no matter what.

I really wanted my mommy last year when I was dealing with everything with my dad. I remember telling my aunt that she would have to step in on occasion and pretend to be my mommy. At the same time, I was so grateful that Mom didn't have to go through what the rest of us were going through. She could be blissfully unaware of the pain and suffering.

Call me crazy if you want, but I think somehow she is still able to come to me when I am having difficulty. I know that the afterlife exists, and truly believe that my father and grandmother have visited me on occasion over the past 18 months. I wonder if there is some kind of parallel universe that allow for Alzheimer's patients to do the same? There is no way that my dad or grandma were the ones who were present for a couple of those visits. The behavior I was experiencing was more like my mother's than theirs. I also sensed her more than I sensed them. That gave me some comfort, knowing she was still here, even if she really isn't.

My Mommy Tribute: L is for Love

Mom was one of those people who was just full of love. She loved her family. She and my father had this intense relationship that included arguing and fighting and then lots of happier times. That was just how they loved. She loved us kids and would do anything for us. I remember several years ago, I fell at work and reinjured an old break just above my ankle. My sister had just left for Boston, so there was no one here to take care of me. Mom and Dad were already planning on coming out a week from then to visit us girls. As soon as she heard I was injured, she stuffed a bag full of clothes and drove out to take care of me that week. When it was time for Dad to join us, she drove the 6 1/2 hours to pick him up, turned around, and brought him back for their family vacation. She never thought about it; she just did it. She was also constantly trying to hug us and told us often that she loved us.

Mom loved kids. She was the youngest of three and always had dreams of having a house full of her own children. Life doesn't work out the way that you plan, and they were lucky to get the two of us. As I have said before, I had always dreamed of giving her a house full of grandchildren. So, she spent her time loving on other people's babies and kids.

Mom also loved to help people. She would get teary any time someone showed her the slightest bit of kindness, too. I remember being in a public restroom. A deaf woman was having difficulty figuring out those new sensor sinks. Mom showed her how to use it and the woman signed, "Thank you." If you don't know, this looks very much like someone is blowing you a kiss. Mom automatically assumed the woman was blowing her kisses for her help and got all emotional and did it back.

When I called to talk to her on the phone around Christmas, I could tell she had no idea who I was. When I said, "I love you," she got all choked up on the other end of the line. It wasn't the "oh, I miss my daughter and she loves me" kind of choked up, though. It was the "Isn't this young woman sweet? I don't know her, but she is telling me that she loves me." So, she simply said, "Thank you." It was a little strange to not hear her returning the sentiment, but I don't really need to hear it anymore. I know she still loves us on some level.

Not leaving A to Z!

I feel like I need to put a post on all of my blogs. Yes, I am WAY behind on the challenge. Life keeps getting in my way. I should have listened to that gut instinct of mine that said, "Write them early!" Lol

Anyway, I have a ton of writing time coming up again soon and will be cranking them out and I WILL finish this month! On all of them! Promise!!

My Mommy Tribute: K is for Kids

My mother's whole purpose in life was to be a mother to her kids. There were just the two of us, though she had hoped to have more. Life and biology don't always work out the way you want them to, though. But Mom had plenty of adopted kids in her life.

Whenever a friend of mine was in need, my parents offered up a place to stay. I can think of several instances where we had an extra body sleeping in my bedroom, on an extra couch, or even in the basement in later years. She even attached to some of the kids Dad was sponsoring, on occasion.

Mom loved babies more than anything. Because their furniture store ended up specializing primarily in baby furniture, Mom was able to nurture women going through pregnancy. Many customers ended up coming back to visit after the baby was born. Others, who already had young children, also came in seeking several items. If there was a particularly darling baby, Mom would always ask to hold the child. And then she would often ask if she could bring the baby through the door to our apartment to meet me. If parents were apprehensive, she would excuse herself to come get me to come out to meet the baby. She just loved them and most of them did well with her. She just had that big mama vibe that was so comforting.

This is a picture of my mom feeding her first favorite baby - me. :-)

When it was time for me to start babysitting, Mom always gave me a lot of advice. My first job came when I was 11 years old. My first client was 4 months old, but also had a 9 year-old brother. I was there every Saturday morning. Mom insisted that I call her at least once per shift, to check in and make sure everything was okay. My second, more frequent babysitting job, started with a little guy who was about six weeks old. I was 12, but because he was so small and the hours were so long at times, Mom had me watch him at our house. I kept that job until he was almost three years old. I learned more of her wisdom from that hands-on experience than any classes or books could ever teach me.

I continued asking for her guidance as I kept babysitting into adulthood. I even shared a lot of my stories from the classroom with her. She just loved hearing stories about what the kids were doing and learning. She always perked up when she had the opportunity to come visit my classroom. On one particular trip, she was coming to school with me to visit. My assistant ended up calling off last minute. My kids had Atrium, which meant half of them would be in a different room at once in the morning. My afternoon class was always about half the morning number. My administrator asked Mom if she wouldn't mind being my assistant that morning. She was so delighted to do so that she frequently brought up the experience for several years to follow.

Mom always looked forward to having grandchildren. I was very seriously involved with a man who had custody of his five year-old daughter. My mother spoiled her as if she were her own. Alas, that relationship didn't work out and I moved on. My parents finally got to the point where they told me that they didn't care if I had the man, just bring on the grandkids! (It was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, I think!)

Again, biology and life don't always work out the way that we plan, and I was never able to give my mother the grandchildren she so desired. Instead, she is stuck with those of the cloth and plastic variety.

This picture was taken two days after Dad had died. We were all dressed up from another memorial service (Dad's cousin had died a couple of weeks before him) and decided to pay her a visit. When we got there, she kept playing with this doll. Sometimes, she would definitely let on that she was pretending it was real, just to freak people out. But then during other moments, I am not so sure that she knew the difference. If it makes her happy, though, who am I to judge?

My Mommy Tribute: J is for Juggling

My mother always did quite the juggling act. When I was two years old, my parents built and opened their very own furniture store. It was open seven days a week, except for Sundays in the summer. (Dad wanted the freedom to work outside on his garden at least one full day.) At the same time, she was the organist of our church. That entailed two services every Sunday, choir practice every Wednesday night, weddings and funerals, and any other special services. When I hit kindergarten, my parents decided to keep me in Montessori school. I was already reading and to go to public kindergarten, I would be learning my alphabet again. My sister was also old enough at that point to join the toddler program. So, Mom started to help with bookeeping and billing at the school, to offset the two tuitions.

My sister and I both attended the Montessori school through the sixth grade. Mom continued working there until I had graduated from high school. The day following my graduation, my parents moved to the next county south and closed the furniture store. When Mom left the school, she started working for various accountants in town, eventually landing a position as resident bookkeeper for one particular business.

Despite juggling three different jobs, my mother always had time for us. The store closed early on Tuesdays, so that was Girl's Night Out. On Friday nights, the store closed late, but we would all curl up on the couch to watch Dallas. Saturday evenings were designated for grocery shopping and family nights around the TV watching shows like The Golden Girls. Sunday mornings, we would go to church together and then hang out at Grandma's while Mom played the second service. Sunday afternoons were spent around the house, or playing in the yard or the pool. She managed to make it to all of our parent-teacher conferences and any performances or special events that we had.

As we got older, those times started to drift and change. Girlfriends and boyfriends became more important. But we still snuck in some family time. Holidays were strictly for family. Dinner was expected to be together, as much as customers allowed. And she still came to all of our functions.

Because of my mother's example, I am somewhat of a workaholic. I teach full-time, but also dabble in little things like writing, babysitting, tutoring, gardening, etc. I know that if I need to make some extra money, the opportunities are there for me to do so. It also helps to keep life from being monotonous. When I get tired of one thing, I can often focus on something else for a while. And I always make sure that I leave time for friends and family, like she did for us.