Mom was......

My mother was young.　

She married my father when she was 16-½ years old. Birthed my eldest brother shortly before she turned 18, and had me, the youngest of three boys when she was still 20.

She spent the greatest part and focus of what most people think of as their “formative years” cooking, cleaning, sewing and washing clothes, caring for my father, birthing and raising my brothers and I, all the while keeping a wonderful, nurturing, growth environment.

 

And she was small.

Although mom stressed the “and a half”, Grandma Nellie contested it. But there was no contesting the 5’ 1” part. Tall was just not in the cards for mom. Grandma Nellie was 5’ 1” as well, and though Grandpa Mel was a powerfully built man, he didn’t have much more than a handful of inches on either one of them.

Grandpa Applebury was built like a plow horse. Broad in the chest, wide shoulders, large forearms, thick thighs, and big hands. Mom took after Nellie.

 

And she was smart

At thirty, she was a high school grad that had been completely consumed with being a world-class mother and housewife. At thirty, she got her first post high school job.

By thirty-five, she had started college nights,. After a full day as a secretary. While still keeping focused on cooking and cleaning and caring for my father, brothers, and I.

By Forty-two, she had completed her Masters Degree in Business administration with an accounting focus.

 

And she was someone you didn't mess with.

When she said jump, my brothers and I knew it was not time to sit around. I don’t ever remember her saying “Wait until your father gets home” to us. If we needed discipline, she was up to the task.

And that was no mean feat. The most flattering way my brothers and I could be described would be “high-energy”. Managing to control us was a job that would have challenged any half dozen Marine Corps Drill Instructors. But Mom had no problem with it.

And while I can’t tell you when it happened for either of my brothers, I can tell you when it happened for me. It was in the fifth grade when I grew taller than mom. Yep, she had to look uphill to discipline her youngest beginning when he was still ten.

But that didn’t deter her.

Long about when I was in the eighth grade I remember one particular occasion when she and I were at odds over some chores. By this time I don’t think mom even came up to my chin anymore, and I was feeling my independence being pretty well dug in until mom step right up to me and said; “If I have to get a step ladder to get high enough off the ground to paddle your fanny, don’t think I won’t do it”.

And while my young male pride caused me to retort; “You’ll look awfully foolish chasing me down the street dragging a ladder behind you”……..I had already started in on the chores....

- © 2013 Marty K Vandermolen - All Rights Reserved