My Mum Rocks my World

When I was in the sixth grade, I made the high jump team. There were, I think, six or seven girls and I got the last spot. This was a huge accomplishment for me because while I was generally a good athlete and made all the other teams handily, I was terrified of high jump; I had landed one too many times with the bar crushed into my lower spine.

Making the team proved to me that I could overcome my fears and accomplish anything (well, anything an eleven year old could accomplish) so when Colleen Nowatzki beat my winning height three days later after missing the tryouts due being sick and bumped me off the team, it’s not a stretch to say that I was devastated. 

The next day, my mother came to calmly discuss the situation with the gym teacher; not to get me on the team but to alert him to the hurt his decision wrought. And by came calmly to discuss I really mean flew in like a bat outta hell. Poor Mr. Bailey was never the same.

Two things happened that day, I got back on the high jump team and Mama Bear was born and nobody fucks with Mama Bear’s cubs. My brother, sister and I came to expect to hear the high-healed furious clicks down the hallway whenever we had been wronged. 

Mums are great. A good mum is like nine hours of deep sleep or the first hot, sunny day of spring — there is a feeling that anything is possible. I, like all others who have been graced with an amazing mother, have a billion and one stories of kindness, of protection, of selflessness like the time she had to stay up with me all night on my nineteenth birthday making sure that I didn’t have alcohol poisoning despite having to start a new job in the morning. 

But, like I said most people have those kind of mum stories and I need something more to up the ante. There was my sister’s sixth birthday party. My mum had always put huge effort into our parties; themes, homemade pinatas, treasure hunts, costume parties; but for some reason Shauna’s sixth was way more low-key and at one point the party threatened to slip into antsy chaos. So what does my darling mother do? She got out her old saddle and gave all the kids rides. On her back. Now, that is dedication to a cause.

Growing up there was very little money; we were poor, yo; and were never able to go on any sort of vacation that didn’t involve going to our grandparent’s cottage. One Spring break, I think I was eleven or so, my mum decided  that we would have a stay-cation (this was waaay before stay-cations were hip or stay-cation had even been coined). We packed our bags, drove around the city, picked up a pizza and came home to “check-in”. The four of us spent the week sunning on her bed, pretending we were on the beach in Southern France. 

My mum taught Dave, Shaun and I to punch. She would line us up and hunker down and we would take turns punching her in the shoulder all while she gave us pointers. 

My mum used to sing me to sleep every night. Her song of choice: Taxi by Harry Chapin. “It was raining hard in Frisco…”

My mum calls us Snides, Shaunstress and Allerd; her purse — Percy Bysshe Shelley (Percy Shelley for short). Instead of swearing she says “buzzard beak” and when she’s cold she says that she’s “chill the bill”. 

My mum introduced me to Modest Mouse back in like 1998. I’ll never forget my brother and sister, age ten and eight, dancing around the living room to Trailer Trash.

My mum had me when she was twenty. She finished her BA when I was four. She started taking courses again about seven years ago; getting her sign language certificate, then her Post Bach.. She finished her MA in education three weeks ago. I am so proud of her for everything she has accomplished. I know from watching her overcome such great odds that I can do anything. 

My mum has made three trips to Toronto in slightly over two months simply because I needed her; waking up in the hospital after overdosing, she was there. She has held me and listened when I needed her to listen; talked when I needed to talk. 

My mum is brave, she is loyal, she is generous. My mum is fierce and kind and strong and smart and so funny. 

Every good thing about me, every positive attribute is mine because of my mum. If I am a tree, my mum is my roots.

I’m sure all of your mums are pretty awesome, but my mum broke the mold. 

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama Bear.