For Mom: Is a simple thank you enough

Note: This article was typed in, as it was published, because the Columbia Basin Herald has no computerized archives.

May 11, 2000
737 words

For Mom: Is a simple thank you enough?

By Dori Stubbs
The Columbia Basin Herald

    On Mother's Day, many of us show tribute to our Moms by sending cards with special words like "love" and "understanding" underlined. Sometimes, important phrases such as "always there for me" receive two underlines, for extra emphasis.

    If we are on the ball, we send flowers. And if we're smart, a corsage will grace her tender, loving shoulder, which, because we cried on it so many times, she switched to wearing sponges for shoulder pads.

    Certainly a simple thank you will not suffice. We shudder when we remember our bratty youth and rebellious teens. We wouldn't even let her hold our hands or kiss our cheeks in public.

    For several years, we knew more than her; now we know next to nothing.

    But we know she's someone special.

    When I look at my mother, I hope I age as gracefully as she does, but that's already in doubt. Most people think she's my sister. She looks several years younger than her age, but does that mean I look several years older than mine?

    Her only girl and three boys are adults in their 30s (I'm the youngest. Don't you believe my brothers when they say I'm the oldest), but she is still our Mom. We don't like to make her cry. We call her for advice on all of life's big questions, move in with her when our marriages fail, expect wisdom on a dime and check in with her regularly by phone.

    I don't know how she manages it, but her support only goes as far as it should. She doesn't interfere in our lives, never says "I told you so" and celebrates our successes as if only her child could have accomplished that task. When I run into people who have recently talked to my Mom, they always say, "You should hear your Mother brag about you and your brothers."

    She still brags about her kids, none of whom are doctors, lawyers, corporate officials or even rich.

    It wasn't as if she had it easy, either.

    When the four of us were young, we threw horseshoes at each other rather than the pit; drove the car in the neighbor's field when we were-ahem-6, 9, 10, and 11 (I was forced into riding along); climbed 100-foot hay lofts to look at eggs in a pigeon's nest; took off our life jackets when canoeing around the lake (this will come as a surprise to her); sometimes beat each other to a bloody pulp (don't let the boys fool you, I got in my licks); played different sports every day at different times and expected her to watch each game to the end, and generally made her life difficult.

    She never said to us, "Just wait till your father gets home," though she could have. She just dealt with us. Sometimes we ganged up on her and she disciplined us as an entire group.

    She knew what hurt.

    She'd make us sit together at a movie. Or make me drive my brothers to the football game and force them to ride with me rather than their friends. Or worst of all, wouldn't let us go anywhere or have anyone to the house, leaving us only each other for company.

    As the only daughter, I have a special relationship with my mother. She always told me, "Just wait till you have a girl of your own." I never heard her say that to my bothers.

    Now that I have a daughter (and a son) of my own, she doesn't say, "See what I meant?" She doesn't have to. She knows I get the message. I wasn't just all joy to her, but a frustration and a reason to pull her hair out at times.
    I'm not sure I've changed as much as I should have.

    So what am I going to do for my amazing mom this Mother's Day? I'm going to buy a pretty card that tries to say how I feel and underline several words and phrases, some of them twice. I'm fairly on the ball, so I'll buy some flowers. I want to believe I'm smart, so I'll pin a corsage on her shoulder.

    Or maybe this year a simple thank you will suffice.

    Her card on Sunday will contain this column in which I and my brothers, Warren, Wayne and Daryl De Vries tell the world: "Thank you Lorraine De Vries for being such an extraordinary mother."

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