Tuesday, May 15, 2012

My Kooky Mom


This blog post was written by my daughter, Tiffany Jarman Jansen, about me in honor of Mother's Day.

My mom is in no way like your normal, everyday mom.

When my brother and I were little, she used to write notes that she’d slip into our lunchboxes saying “I love you, have a great day.” My brother and I had no doubts about my mother’s love for us. She told us about it every chance she got.

If my mom laughs, you can hear it from miles away. Once, I was waiting for my mom to come pick me up. All of the sudden, there’s this cackling coming from down the hall. The acquaintance next to me turns and says “Your mom’s here.”

She insisted on taking us to and picking us up from school every day all the way up until we had our driver’s licenses. My brother and I quickly learned that this meant getting to school at least five minutes late and having to wait another five minutes after everyone else had left to be picked up.

My mom has always had a hand in everything: the Parent-Teacher Association, taking part in community theaters, volunteering at school, leading our scouting troops, horseback riding, teaching. You name it, my mother did it. She was always going and often had so much on her mind that she ended up forgetting it all.

Our home was always a zoo. We had ferrets, cats, dogs, birds, hermit crabs, gerbils, hamsters, fish, horses, lizards. She even tried to sneak a pot-bellied pig into the house once. Needless to say, it didn’t work. My dad found out pretty quickly. Though he wasn’t happy about it, she was able to convince him to let the pig stick around.

Each holiday has its own distinct wardrobe: socks, jumpers, t-shirts, sweaters, sweatshirts, and even jewelry for everything from Christmas and Halloween to Mardi Gras and Saint Patrick’s Day. And the house was to be decorated to the extreme for each one. There’s a separate box in the attic devoted to every holiday imaginable.

When my brother began dinner conversation by asking what “cum” was, my mother very calmly turned to my father and said, “I’ll hand this one over to you” then continued to serve as my father explained.

She has a group of friends who happen to be drag queens and is almost always off at one of their shows. My mom is actually so dedicated to her gay friends that she started a PFLAG (Parents, Families & Friends of Lesbians and Gays) chapter in my hometown.

Observant is most certainly not one of the words you would use to describe my mother. My brother and I still laugh over the first time she used a digital camera. After taking the photo, she took a look at the screen to admire her work. “Oh, it says something,” she said, squinting at the camera as she put her reading glasses on. She took another look and said, “Picture is blurred? What does that mean?” Um… I don’t know, Mom. Maybe that the picture is blurred?

Everyone loves my mom. All my friends envied me my cool and eccentric mother. And me? Well, I was just plain embarrassed most of the time. Of course I loved her – she was my mom, after all. But her presence sometimes made me want to crawl into a hole.
As I got older, my mother became my best friend. We did so much together and told each other practically everything. She was there for me in good times and in bad. She supported everything I involved myself in and was proud of everything I touched. While my friends and their mothers argued and generally did not get along, my mom and I were doing things together and loving every moment.

Of course there were things about her that drive me bonkers. Like her as-long-as-your-father-finds-me-attractive-I-don’t-care-what-I-look-like attitude or the fact that you can still hear everything my mother says from all the way on the other side of the street. Or how she yells into the telephone like the person on the other end won’t hear her otherwise.
But those are just some of the little things that make her who she is: the kooky mom that every girl wants to have as her best friend. I’m glad that I’m the one who gets that mom. And I hope that someday I’ll get to be that mom to someone else.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Mama knows best

Frederick News-Post 05/06/2012 Mama knows best IN HONOR OF MOTHER’S DAY, I want to share something my daughter wrote: When I was younger, I would fall and skin my knee or get in trouble at school or be teased. No matter what happened, my mom always knew how to make it better.It could be a kiss or a hug or a pep talk or a hot chocolate. Whatever it was, it always worked and, before you knew it, I was back up and on the go. I remember back before I left for college. All of my things had been packed and arrangements had been made with my future roommate as to who was responsible for bringing what to “furnish” our dormitory. That evening, I found myself curled up in bed, sobbing with grief. This was the beginning of a new period in my life. Which meant I was leaving another period of my life behind. Gone were the days of the security of having my brother right next door and my parents across the hall. Gone were the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my mother packed in my lunch every day since I was in elementary school. Gone were the days of set schedules and Dad taking on the role of human alarm clock. I felt an overwhelming sadness and an odd sense of guilt. And I was afraid. I was afraid of growing up; moving on, leaving. So I did the one thing I knew would make everything all right again. I went to my mommy. And she knew how to make it better. During my college years, I suffered from an eating disorder. For more than a year, I kept my suffering a secret.My mom knew that something was wrong, but she didn'’t know what. So she couldn'’t fix it. And I could see that it was killing her. One night, after a particularly bad day, I started to get really warm. I was driving home in the middle of November and, even with the windows down and the air conditioning on, I was sweating. About halfway home, my left arm started to go numb and I could feel myself getting dizzy. It was then that I realized how deep I’d sunk and vowed that I wouldn’'t let myself continue down this path. With all the will I could muster, I made it home, pulled into the driveway and dragged myself to the door. Too weak and scared to open the door myself, I rang the doorbell. Moments later, there she was, taking me in her arms and leading me inside. And she knew how to make it better. The years went by and I soon found myself stepping into my wedding gown. I’d found the love of my life and could not wait to start a life with him. I had been so caught up in the preparations for both the wedding and my upcoming move to his home in the Netherlands that it wasn'’t until I was being laced into my dress that I realized the severity of the path I'’d chosen. Not only was I leaving what had been my home for so many years, I was also leaving behind my language, my country, my culture, my friends and, most of all, my family. I didn'’t want to leave, but I knew that I needed to be with the man I’d given my heart to. But this time, when I reached out to my mother, she didn'’t know what to do. Her baby girl, her best friend, was leaving her. Though she knew this time would come, no amount of visualizing or fabricated scenarios could have prepared her for this moment. So we stood there and held each other and cried. Whether it’s advice, a chat, a shopping trip, a cookie baking session or to wipe my tears and tell me that everything will be OK, there are still times when I need my mommy. And I hope there always will be. My daughter, Tiffany Jarman Jansen, is a mom now, too. Her daughter, Chloe, will be 5 months old on Wednesday. Tiffany and her family reside in Amersfoort, The Netherlands. Lois Jarman writes from Knoxville. She teaches in the Frederick County Public Schools and at Frederick Community College, and has a blog, Mom’s Ponderings, at http://momsponderings.blogs pot.com.