, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mom as a little girl with her mother

Mom as a little girl with her mother

The oldest of six children, mom was born in Berlin, Germany the year WWII started.

Not an ideal childhood, but there were those special moments with her favourite grandparents, those rare moments where she could enjoy a piece of chocolate and the hospital stays that made her want to be a nurse.

And then the family years. Getting married. Having children of her own. Making a new and better life in Canada.

I have many memories growing up, like when Mom would tear around the house looking for her rat tail comb so she could finish setting her hair in rollers; all the while the comb was safely fixed in between the rows of curlers on her head.

Or how she’d barely be in the door after work and we’d all be like, “what’s for supper?” She’d sing to us, with us, read to us, take care of us when we were sick, threaten us with the wooden spoon to make us eat porridge, bake a cake every Sunday and feed it to us for breakfast with a vitamin.

And oh those cleaning days on Saturday, stripping, washing and waxing the floor, dragging the mattresses downstairs and beating them on the balcony, vacuuming, dusting, filling the sink with water to wash all the knick  knacks, washing the laundry in the wringer washing machine and hanging the laundry on the line – cleaning day was like boot camp!

Waiting up for me when I came home past curfew; lights flicking on blinding me, asking where I’ve been, why I was late, did I have any idea how worried she’d been? what was I thinking? Never mind, just get to bed! And by the way, you’re grounded for the summer – which never really panned out because grounding me meant I’d be around all the time and I was quite the pain in the ass!

Cooking our favourite meal, making our favourite cake on our birthdays, always motivated by wanting to be the kind of mother she had wanted to have as a child.

Wish I could cook for you today Mom. Wish I could bake your favourite cake. Wish we didn’t live so far apart.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Happy Birthday Mom. I know you don’t feel like celebrating and I understand. But you are worth celebrating. I am grateful for you and I hope you have some moments of joy today.

With love, Diana