Once A Mom Always A Mom

Even though I'm well into my 40s and quite capable of doing things, my mother somehow keeps reminding me to "be careful." It used to drive me crazy. And, I would always reply in exasperation, "Mother!"

Well, that's just it! She told me in oh so gentle words, that she will always be my mother. "Once a mother, always a mother," she told me. She said she would always be on the lookout for danger - and tell me to be on the lookout as well.

Case in point #1: When I was younger, and long before child safety restraints and rules requiring children to be buckled in the back seat, I would ride in the front passenger seat. As mom slammed on the brakes to avoid approaching danger, she would quickly fling her right arm out and barricade my body from being thrust into the dash board and out the front windshield. She still does that. "Once a mom, always a mom."

Case in point #2: When I would help her in the kitchen, she would caution me to be careful as I opened the oven door. "Be careful," she would say. When I had a home of my own, and my parents visited, I would be busy preparing dinner. Mom would help or stay out of the way, depending on how elaborate the meal was. As I opened the oven door, she would say, "Be careful."

Like I said, it used to drive me crazy. Within the last couple of years, it has become a point of laughter for us. Now, when she flings out her right arm or says "Be careful," I just looked at her and lovingly say, "Mother." And, we laugh.

Role Reversal

My mother has always been there to take care of my illnesses. I remember she made a special trip from California shortly after my husband and I bought our first home. I had surgery to improve our chances of conception. Mom took care of the details of our home: the cooking and cleaning. She was also my nursemaid - checking my temperature, reminding me to drink plenty of liquids, reminding me to eat, being careful when walking down the steps. She drove me around town until the doctor cleared me to drive. She even helped bathe me when I couldn't reach certain locations.

I never had children. So, I never had the opportunity to be a mom - to nurture a child to adulthood. To witness the pain of growing up. To witness the joy of reaching maturity.

I do, however, play "mom" to my 8-year-old border collie flat-coat retriever mix dog.

Now, I'm a mom to my mom. I'm the nursemaid. I'm doing the cooking and cleaning of the house. I'm driving her around town (a place I'm not very familiar with) so that she can attend to her "normal" routine: a haircut, attending the community theater. I'm making sure she has plenty of water to drink, preparing a cup of bouillon to warm her from the chills. I'm reminding her to take her anti-nausea medication and supporting her holding the glass of water as her hand shakes uncontrollably.

I know why my mother did it - out of love. That's why I'm doing it - out of love.