I post what I believe to be the last good picture made of these two mothers together. On the left is my mother with my mother-in-law on the right. As you can see from their body language, they were friends. Finishing the picture in the center is our daughter during her college days. As we get ready to celebrate Mother’s Day this weekend, I have been thinking about how different they were and reflecting that there are many ways one can mother, never error-free, but well.
We often joked about Mama’s cooking behind her back. You could count the things she made that lured you to the table on your hands with fingers left over. As I begin to count biscuits, chicken and dumplings, and cobbler pie, it occurred to me that all of them have a biscuit dough base. However, her green thumb was epic. We lived next door to the church where Daddy was pastor. On Monday mornings, she often stuck in the ground a leftover plant from the arrangement some church member brought to adorn the sanctuary the day before. A few weeks later, it would have taken root, sprouted leaves, and formed flower buds. She could bring on a delicious scare telling Grimm’s fairy tales and take you to far off places with stories and poems. And you didn’t want to get her started on family stories unless you had a while to listen.
My mother-in-law never talked a lot even when the family gathered. She once told me she preferred to hear her sons and their families talk. If she told a story, you had better listen because it might never turn up again. However, you could count on a bountiful meal. In fact, if you didn’t want to eat, she couldn’t figure out what to do with you when you visited. That was fine with her sons, her daughters-in-law, and especially her grandchildren who expected to find their favorites when they showed up. This list would take both hands, both feet, and still not have enough to count. The grandchildren who grew up in my house anticipated sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, fried chicken, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes – a bit starchy but who cares? Dessert might include freshly grated coconut cake or her chocolate meringue pie – or both since a son preferred one and grandchildren preferred the other. The only healthy item, as long as you discounted the bacon grease she used for seasoning, was purple-hulled peas from her garden. Grandchildren felt free to skip them in favor of a second dessert.
As you can tell from the granddaughter’s body language, grandchildren appreciated both kinds, as I did myself. I actually count Mama’s disinterested cooking as a blessing since I began learning the skill that has come in handy throughout my life when I was nine. I’ve learned several of my mother-in-law’s specialties, though she never followed an exact recipe in her life – and can even do a reasonable facsimile of my personal favorite, that wonderful chocolate meringue pie, though I do use a recipe!
I come back to my original premise that there are many ways to be a good mother, none of them perfect. I see spatterings of each of these mothers in my own version and am thankful for what they taught me since “Mom” has become such a special label in my own life. And in thankfulness for these two mothers, I wish a happy Mother’s Day to all those who have found their own approaches to doing this job well.