An Unexpected Outcome

I think about my mother a lot. This surprises me because I wasn’t close to my mother. We didn’t fight or anything, I was not abused. She was not an alcoholic or drug addict. Disinterested would be the word, I guess. She did not seem to care what I (or my three sisters) were doing as we grew up. She worked as a waitress, so she was gone a lot and got home late at night. I spent many a late night out with my friends and had parties at home. I am actually not sure if she ever knew what was going on or not. Maybe she did, but did not care?

So why am I thinking of her so much lately? I think it’s because I have been trying to write a book about a mother with four daughters, mimicking my childhood experiences along with my mother’s. You see, both of my grandparents were deaf. My mother was the oldest of four children and when she went to school, she did not know how to talk because there was no one at home to teach her. This affected her a lot. She was expected to guide her siblings into the world, teach them and protect them. My grandparents stayed away from other people because they did not want to be made fun of, and they were afraid of what other people would say about their life and their children. So, my mother was isolated until she went to school. She learned to hide things from others, and she cherished “things” because she never had much as a young girl. Fast forward to being a mother. I think that my mother did not know how to handle the four daughters she had borne. She cared for us as babies, but when we were old enough to do things our own (I’m talking five years old)—we were expected to fend for ourselves and run the household. My father left early on—he could not take my mother’s hoarding tendencies (still cherishing “things” in a bigger way) and the fighting that surrounded throwing away the simplest things. It ended up being too much for him. As kids, we saw him now and again—but not on a regular basis.

As I said, my mother was disinterested in my life. I wanted to be a nurse since I was five years old and read my first “Cherry Ames” book. Cherry Ames was a nurse who had all sorts of jobs and adventures. It seemed so exciting and that is what I wanted to do. At fourteen, I investigated becoming a candy stripper, applied on my own, and set up my schedule. I had to beg my mother every week for a ride to and from the hospital. She did this for a couple of weeks—then told me that it was too much for her to do—so I had to stop. I was not permitted to get involved in any other activities either, such as school sports, Girl Scouts, or dance or piano lessons. I get it—we did not have much money, but again, there was disinterest in having the children involved in things that required her participation. I was, however, allowed to be involved in high school activities that were free because there was an activity bus available for transportation after school. So there was that.

At 16, I got a job at a nearby hospital as a housekeeper. I wanted to work in a hospital, no matter what the job was. Now, however, I could drive, so, if my mother was not working, she let me drive to work on my own. If the car was not available, I rode my bike. The hospital was about five miles away, but I was young and ambitious, so I rode, avoiding traffic and stray dogs as much as possible. By my senior year, I looked into nearby nursing schools. I applied for grants, scholarships, and admission to my school of choice, all on my own. When the local nursing association came to interview me for a small scholarship---I was there alone. My mother did not attend. By the way—I did receive that scholarship—but neither my mother nor father attended the ceremony when I received it.

So, you get the general theme. Disinterest. The thing is—this is what motivated (and required) me to take charge of my own life. To overcome obstacles. To be independent. To be strong. To be resourceful. To work hard. All things that I am proud of.

I strived to not be like my mother when it came to my own children. That is not to say that I spoiled them, because I didn’t. I have three children, and after I divorced, we all pulled together to run the house since I worked full time (yes, as a nurse). We had a chores chart. My sisters and I also had a chores chart growing up, but all the jobs then were completed by the four of us. Now, the chores were shared by myself and my children. Everyone pitched in. Everyone did their own wash. We took turns mowing the lawn and cleaning the house. I tried to foster independence, as I found it to be a great attribute in life.

Additionally, I demonstrated genuine interest in their sports, dance classes, and hobbies. I assisted with college choices and applications. I was thrilled to take pictures before proms and at graduations (something my mother never did for me).

I will say that my mother ended up showing interest in some of her grandkid’s events. I was happy to see this, as they looked at their grandmother differently than I did. To them, she was happy to attend a dance recital or graduation, and they always teased her for taking so many pictures (ironic, right?). But they loved her, and that is what was important. Somehow, her disinterest changed to interest.

At the end of my mother’s life, my sisters and I cared for her while she was in home hospice. I listened to her talk about her “four angels” and realized that she actually was proud of her children. She just had a hard time showing it. I also realized that she did the best that she could while raising all of us—that is all that anyone can do. She had her reasons for not being able to get involved, they are just reasons that I could not understand. Perhaps it was her childhood and the lack of parenting that she received. Perhaps it was something else. The funny thing is, her actions (or non-actions, as it were) created strong, level-headed, independent, resourceful, and loving women. Four of them. Perhaps the most valuable thing that resulted from my mother’s method of child-rearing is the inseparable bond between myself and my sisters. It has gotten us through a lot of situations. We learned to support and love one another no matter what the circumstances. For this, I am forever grateful.

Mom, I hope you know you did good. We did good.