Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Bless you, bless you bumblebee

When I think of you, Mom, that little poem you used to say when we sneezed always comes to mind. I always thought it was a cool little poem. And we heard often as we all sneezed a lot.

Bless you, bless you bumblebee
Say, when will your wedding be?
If it is tomorrow day
Take your wings and fly away

I don't think it had much to do with sneezes. But I still liked it anyway.

Most mothers and daughters go through a rift and we were no different. Honestly, you were probably more patient than I deserved. Remember that time after I didn't have a curfew anymore right after I graduated from high school when I came home at 2:30 in the morning? Then for some reason the next night at the dinner table I lied and said I was home at 1 a.m. because 1 a.m. sounds a whole lot better than 2:30 a.m. and you shamed me by announcing how much you trust me even though you knew I came in at 2:30 a.m. Yeah? Remember that? Because I was amazed you actually knew what time I came in since for the prior several years I had to wake you up to announce my arrival home before curfew. Actually, I appreciate that you did trust me. I didn't deserve that trust but I do appreciate it none the less.

Remember after Dad left? I barely do. But I do remember how extremely sad you were. And the sister and I tried to cheer you up. By the way, I'm sorry that the picture we drew on the wall in the closet didn't really make you happy. Or the one on the ceiling. Now that I'm older I see the tremendous inner strength you had then.

And I appreciate that you never talked bad about Dad. He deserved some negative coverage but you just wouldn't go there. And when he became sick with cancer, you were there to assure us that all would be OK. I remember that day, two days after Christmas, when you woke us (the sister and I) up to let us know that even though we wouldn't have our Dad anymore, he wouldn't be suffering. Even my young, junior high brain knew you were strong to be able to talk to us at all about Dad.

But your strength shouldn't have surprised me. You grew up on a farm although I'm not sure you realized you were living on a farm given your girly, girl ways with a mother who was strong. I always loved the story of how you overheard the adults talking about the mice problem then you went to play under the house and discovered a little nest of kittens. Thinking they were mice, you snapped each of their little necks. And people wondered why I obeyed you. Hmph! I knew you could snap a neck if needed.

Once you told me that you worried that you yelled at us too much when the sister and I were growing up. I don't remember much yelling but I'm sure the sister and I deserved some yelling at because I'd definitely yell at me if I could. I do remember a lot of laughing. And thanks to you, I appreciate the finer aspects of sarcasm.

Mom, thanks for being such a great mother! I love that you are my friend and my mother.

And bless you.


Deb said...

this is so sweet. mother/daughter relationships fascinate me... mainly because the one i have with my mother is just so strange, and frankly, i wish it were better.

your mom's inner (and physical!) strength come through nicely in your post.

Anonymous said...

My mother and I had a turbulent relationship, too. I like to think if she were still with us, that we'd be very good friends.

only a movie said...

That is lovely, Beth. I love your sense of humor. Your mom must be a funny one too.

Sarah's Blogtastic Adventures said...

I love the kitten/mice story!!

Unknown said...

You evoke such memories in all of us Beth!

I so related, as a mother of teenage girls who used to slip out their bedroom windows at night... and didn't think I knew about it. They were only going across the street to visit a friend, so I wasn't worried; my gut just told me to let them 'get away with it.'

Today, we laugh at such memories and I remind my oldest daughter - who is the mother of my 11 year old granddaughter - that her time is coming very, very soon. She says: "That's what I'm afraid of!"

In a very sick way, the poor kitten/mice provided me with a belly laugh this early morn!

Pseudo said...

What a beautiful and heartfelt post. Now I'm feeling a little guilty for what I posted today... But my mom does not have a computer.

Candice said...

Good job, Beth. I enjoyed reading your tribute.

Halftime Lessons said...

Way to go...what a great tribute. Moms are special territory, and you served her well.


Kimmie said...

Ahh, how very sweet. I did my tribute on my mother too.

bernthis said...

I would pay big money to have my daughter grow up and say these things to me. Will it happen? I hope against hope

Everyday Goddess said...

Lately, if I am lucky enough to remember to ask myself, when my daughter is tweaking my last nerve, Is there anyone on this planet that I love more than her? And the answer is always No. I might be screaming in my head, but I will not let myself freak out at her just because I can't control myself. Sometimes I work this same theory when my mother steps on my toes. But it's a vastly different kind of love.

Smart Mouth Broad said...

What a sweet poem. I love these stories. What a lovely tribute to your mom. Does she read your blog?

Kulio said...

ohhh, I love that poem! Been fun catching up on your posts - bet more teachers would love to be supported like that by their principal :-)

kudos for taking the time, now, to say these things to your mom.