Random thoughts about my mother--Inge Herring-- and reflections on some of the gifts she gave me:
She read me stories when I was young, though her English wasn't that strong, I learned life lessons from fairy tales like Hansel and Gretel, Goldilocks, other children's classics. She made me hot tea and toast, tucked me in a warm fuzzy blanket, soothed my head with a cold cloth and let me lay on the sofa when I was sick. She demanded that I eat split pea soap and brussel sprouts. She scolded me telling me to clean my room, to be nice to my brother & sisters, to choose the right friends, and to eat my vegetables. She took me to piano lessons, and bought me a piano, a flute, and lots of books. She forced me to practice as she listened and sometimes hummed along when I wanted to go outside and play. She went to my band concerts, piano recitals, and theater performances. She sewed me clothes - matching outfits for me and my little sister, and she knitted me socks and scarves. She brushed my hair and gave me beautiful ring curls and long braided pony tails. She brought my dog to school for me one day for show and tell--making me the coolest kid in the 3rd grade. She threw a huge birthday party for me when I turned ten and made the coolest chocolate frosted cupcakes and balloon sheet cake--further establishing my coolness to my peers. She warned me about the world and its dangers. She stayed married to my father until he passed away and provided a pleasant home with good food, clean clothes, a warm bed and clean sheets, milk and hot cream of wheat - brei(she called it breile). She let me put posters of cute pop singers and movie stars on my wall and listen to loud music in my room. She taught me how to make gravy, tuna salad, schnitzel, cucumber salad, and home fries. In the morning she woke us up for school with her sing-song voice, "uppie time, uppie time!" She sang songs to us and with us. She shouted to us from the front seat to stop fighting, stop touching each other, and stop looking at each other when we went on family vacations. She looked like the movie star Ingrid Bergman when she dolled up and put on her red lipstick--she is a beautiful woman.
She said these things to me:
*The dogs bark at the moon, but the moon keeps on shining (she told me this when I came home from school upset about malicious people in high school)
*Don't paint the devil on the wall (don't say bad things will happen cuz they might)
*Save your money
*Eat your vegetables
*Clean as you go
*Pull your hair out of your face--you have such a pretty face.
*Don't let people walk over you
*Call your brother, call your sisters
*Don't depend on anyone to take care of you
*You're a smart girl
*Make good choices
*Take good care of yourself
*(and when it was cold in the house) Put some clothes on!
She told me, "I'm proud of you."
She told me that before I left the country to work and live for two years in the UAE, and it was such a revelation for me. She may have said it to me before, but I never really "heard" it before. I didn't know she felt that way for the longest time. It seemed as though my mother was constantly correcting me, scolding me or shouting at me; i thought she disapproved of my choices. I always felt like I couldn't measure up and I couldn't please her no matter what I did. But I know now that she just wanted the best for me, she wants me to be happy, to be successful, safe, and taken care of. She wants me to live a good life. And she is proud of me. I appreciate her so much more now that I realize that I'm not in a struggle against her; rather, she in the struggle WITH me.
Thanks, Mom, for everything. I love you.
