My mother just spent several days with me…
It’s been awhile since my last post here on Pop Rock Nation. I have been somewhat busy dealing with July. I think July may be my least favorite month of the year. It seems like that’s when I have to deal with the most grief. Last year, I lost my dad in July. In 2007, I lost my grandmother in July. And I’ve had several beloved dogs get terminal diagnoses in July. So I had been waiting with trepidation for July 2015, which I knew would also be the month I’d see my mother again.
Most of the time, I actually get along pretty well with my mother. As family members go, she’s pretty low impact. She doesn’t mind entertaining herself and will be content taking naps or reading books. We still took her around to show her the local sights. We took her out to a few restaurants. In one place we visited, a German lady actually chastised my husband for not forcing my mom to sit outside in the biergarten, where it was supposedly cooler. And while we were cruising around Baden Wurttemberg, checking things out, we listened to a lot of music.
No, my mom isn’t like Andy Summers’ mother in “Mother”. I do sometimes think of her when I hear this, though.
My mom is a lot more tolerant when it comes to musical choices than my dad was. Dad would listen to horrible elevator music and try to sing along, while all the while I was strapped into the backseat wishing I was anywhere else. But Mom tolerates a broad range of tunes, everything from Queen to David Lanz. Some things she likes better than others. Sometimes she’d ask what we were listening to. Other times, I’d hear her hum, which she rarely does because she thinks she can’t sing. Actually, my mom can sing, she just chooses not to. I think of it as sort of the same attitude she has about getting an ATM card or learning how to use the Internet. She can do those things, but figures at this point in her life, why bother?
My mom probably wouldn’t appreciate Mr. T’s take on mothers. But allow me to take this time to remind you to be somebody, or be somebody’s fool.
I am ever grateful that my mother was never insistent that I follow in her footsteps and have a bunch of kids. I always wanted them, but things didn’t work out that way for me. Mom was fine with it.
Yes, this is a Mormon song for kids, but it kinda fits here. I failed to grow up and become a mother. Actually, I’m glad my life doesn’t revolve around cookies and milk.
I may have related more to Jermaine Jackson’s rather maudlin sentiments about about his mother. “Oh Mother” was on his 1984 album Dynamite, which I owned on vinyl.
Awww… he loves his mother. I used to love this song, but as I’ve gotten older, it seems a bit overwrought.
And then there’s Kate Bush’s haunting “Mother Stands for Comfort”, which was not really true in my case. My mom is a great lady, but she’s not very warm and fuzzy. I like the song anyway, cuz Kate Bush is awesome.
My mother is not all that comforting… but she can be fun when she’s in a good mood.
We sent my mom back to the States yesterday. Her trip involved stops in Munich, Reykjavik, Dulles, and finally RDU, where my sister planned to pick her up and take her to Chapel Hill for a short visit before Mom goes home to Virginia. I’m proud to say our visit was relatively drama free. This July has not sucked as much as last year’s July. In eight days, August will be upon us and I can go back to dreading July.
