Tuesday, 14 May 2013

To a Mudsy

I know this mothers day post is a couple days late. But I wanted to write one so bad ever since I did one for Dad...so I figured, late is better than nothing.

twinfub and I at an early age--5 or so-- came up with the name 'mudsy' for Mom, and it somehow stuck.  She is Mudsy.

The term 'Mudsy' has come to embody certain things to all us children of hers.  Mudsy likes to wear blue plaid, over-sized shirts and has any number of them in her closet.  Mudsy also likes to wear huge, soft, pink sweaters that engulf her neck. (I cannot wear anything soft and pink without feeling as if I have suddenly morphed into my mom).  Mudsy has been known to shuffle around the house in giant husky slippers that barked.

Mudsy is an incorrigible fumfurrer.  (That word probably means exactly what you think it means).  She fumfurs unapologetically day and night, puttering around finding more and more things to do while others wait  with amused impatience.

Mudsy's eyes will fill with tears at the smallest sign of anything heartwarming. Mudsy's heart is so warm and soft that anything that can touch it, will.

When Amytwin and I were little, Mom would occasionally lose patience with us. (although as the last two out of 12 children, we got the considerably more patient mom, I imagine).  Anyways, it was such a rare occurence for our soft-spoken mother to raise her voice, that we were usually shocked right out of our bones.


We would actually be quite scared, but the shock of it usually had the backward effect of making us burst into laughter.




By this time we'd be rolling on the floor, each feeding off of the other's energy.

Mudsy could not keep a straight face.  Her stern look would melt away and to her consternation, I'm sure, she would invariably join in.  Mom has such a bubbly, delightful laugh.  It would just make us laugh harder.  She said we wouldn't let her stay mad at us.


Mudsy thinks of Amy and I as her babies, still.  She stands up to our defense at the most funny, endearing times.  Like when we are being teased by our brothers and sisters, and are totally and completely fine--probably even enjoying it a little--Mudsy will stand up for us, worried that our feelings might be hurt.
Mudsy taught me how to be a Mom.  She came and stayed with me two weeks after I had Owen.  She fumfurred around and kept my house clean, helped me give him his first bath and showed me how to burp him and change him.  When the day came for her to leave I sobbed and sobbed, alone in my room.  Mom came and found me in the dark and hugged me.   "I can't do this without you," I wailed.  She told me I could.  She made me feel like I was a good mother.  The next day, I found a 4 page letter on my pillow.  It was full of love and advice.  Some of the advice I still think about daily--4 years later. I keep that letter in a special place and read it when I need encouragement.  I am so grateful for my mom.

I remember after I dropped out of massage therapy school, and made the decision to take some creative writing classes at the local university.  Dad blundered about, disappointed that I'd quit the schooling that would have prepared me for an actual cut-and-dried career. (I understand his disappointment and don't blame him in the least--I kinda wish I'd stuck it out now too).  But anyways, it stung. I hated thinking Dad was disappointed in me.  Mom found me in the sewing room, and, fighting back tears, I expressed all this to her.
"Well you know that I'm proud of you, right?" she said.
"Yeah," I'd shrugged, because I did, somehow, always know that.
"Well that's all that matters," Mudsy'd said complacently.

Mudsy taught me a few other things too--not by preaching but by just being her:
-She never once spoke bad about Dad.  Whenever I would come to her with complaints, she would never encourage me.  She always supported him.  They were (are) a real team. ( Dad was the same way--he didn't let any of us speak badly about mom).
-She was always aware of other's feelings...she never wanted to hurt anyone.
-She stood strong and bold throughout my demon teenage years, refusing to take offense at my uncivilized behaviour.  She knew it wasn't really me.  She met my angst with love and so bearded lion--or the fub--in it's den so to say.
-she taught me that being whimsical and charming can be better than being perfect.
-she taught me how to be creative.

And a million other things that I could tell you.  Mudsy is truly a gem of mudsies. She is quiet and a trifle reserved--once people get to know her they are always surprised at how wonderful and amazing she is.  I know I was raised by an exceptional mom.

love you mudsy!!