Thank you, Paula Deen, From The Bottom of My Southern Fried Heart

There are certain things, or people in this world that can easily move me to tears.  My mom is one of those people.   Without a doubt, I love my mom more than I could possible truly express in words, either written or spoken.  She has done more for me than so many would ever be willing to do.  She has given so much, and I don't mean things of monetary value, but things that are worth far, far more.
So, when something upsets my mother, I take note.
The other day, we were discussing the great Paula Deen witch hunt going on.  I do believe it is a witch hunt.  For whatever reason, people just want to take her down.  I'm not saying she is perfect, but I believe that reactions should be appropriate, and not outlandish.  It is, of course, one of those things that make you shake your head, but rarely do they have you truly emotionally upset, unless you are personally involved.
My mother, it seems, does take it very personally.
As we were discussing it, she became very upset.  Her words were almost shocking to me.  I had no idea how much she really likes Paula Deen.  Paula Deen means a lot to my mom in ways that I never understood.
Several years ago, my mom found out she had breast cancer.  It was bad.  She waited, though, until after I had given birth to her first grand child to allow any treatment to begin.  She wouldn't even tell us what was going on.  She, knowing that we had problems during the pregnancy, didn't want to take any chances of upsetting me.  So, three days after her first grandchild was born, she had a partial mastectomy.  After that, she started radiation and then Chemotherapy.  She did radiation for a few months, but years of chemo.  First a long bought of IV chemo, then pill form for years afterward.  It was a tough battle, but one that she has been victorious in so far.  She is a survivor.
It was also during that time that Paula Deen really came up in the TV world.  She was on TV all the time.  My mom, who works for herself in a very small business, hadn't ever had the time to sit down and watch much TV, until then.  She loved Paula on TV.  Paula was joyous and happy when mom was struggling to keep that herself.  She made great food, and my mom is a recipe addict.  She was uplifting to my mom in a time when she desperately needed that, just by doing what she wanted to do and being herself.  Paula Deen every day gave my mom something to look forward to when she wasn't allowed to leave the house, see her friends and family, or even go to church because her immune system had just bottomed out.
Paula Deen became a sort of friend to my mom, just through the magic of television.
Now, people have taken something that Paula Deen did years ago and blown it up beyond belief.  Everyone makes mistakes.  Everyone.  As Paula herself tried to say, and to paraphrase the Bible, let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
She apologized.  She says she has mended her ways.
My mom says that as long as she meant it, then she should be forgiven.  That is good enough for God and if it is good enough for God, it should be good enough for all of us.
My mom believes in Paula Deen, and I believe in my mom.
So, to Paula Deen, I want to say thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, Thank you for being there for my mom.  Thank you for giving her joy in the hardest time of her life.  I appreciate you now so much.  Just like my mom, you may never know how many people's lives you have touch in ways that you will never know about.  I'm glad you were there, though.
Thank you.
I hope you keep having your cooking classes.  I would love to be able to send my mom one of these days.  She would love it.
I really hope you decide to self publish that cooking book that was supposed to come out.  This is one I would buy two copies of, one for mom and one for me.
I hope you come back, better than ever, so that you can be a great, smiling face that the world needs.
Keep your head held high, and please keep on being you.
And most importantly, thanks again, for all those smiles and laughs you gave my mom.

Month of Thanks 11/29

Today I am really thankful that my mom is a great cook.  My jeans and waist line are not so thankful, but my heart and tummy sure are.  Nothing like one of moms home cooked meals to make you feel all warm and special inside. 

My Mom Has The Right To Remain Silent, But Not The Ability

Let me preface this post by assuring you all the my mother did not get arrested and was not mirandized. However, as things go with my family, I wouldn't be surprised if she had been.

I am out of town right now. I left my car with my parents. My mom called once and ask if she could take my car somewhere. Apparently, that was a cart blanch approval for her to use it at will. Truth is I don't care that much, as long as she doesn't return it any worse than she found it. That includes getting me in trouble with the police.

Tonight, she was driving my car. I ask why, and she said something about taking ice to her shop, which must mean that my car hauls ice better than her car does. I think my car is just cleaner and has less crap in it. Anyway, she then told me it was a good thing that she was driving my car, because she was glad that she got the ticket instead of me.

Ticket? Oh yes.

As soon as she pulled out of her shop parking lot, she was pulled over. She got a ticket for having a tail light out and a brake light out.

You see, when I got there, I had an issue with my brake lights. The first thing I did was get my brother, who is an actual auto mechanic, and even manages an auto mechanic shop, to look at it. He checked my lights, and was supposed to buy my new lights. His shop, though, didn't carry the right very expensive lights to replace anything VW, and he was going to have to order them. I gave him the money and ask him to do so. That never happened. He actually took out one of my bulbs, and kept it to make sure he had the right thing. He still has it. However, I did try to fix my brake lights when we realized that all 3 of my lights couldn't have gone out at once. I ended up taking my car in to the dealer to have it fixed. It was fixed, mostly.

Which is why my mom was very surprised about the brake light, and mentioned that to the police officer. He told her the brake light was out, and she replied "Well, that is odd". He didn't respond to her fishing expedition as she hoped. So, she told him again "That is really odd that the light is out. I find that hard to believe." He just looked at her, not sure why she would find it so hard to believe. So, she just launched into a story.

"See, we just drove this car across country, and we didn't know that the entire trip the break lights were out. The whole way...."

I'm going to stop retelling her part of the story there.
It is true, we did drive across country not realizing that my break lights were out. At the very start of our drive across country to move from San Diego back to Tennessee, I had a little problem with my car. All the indicator lights came on. I lost power. This was all at the very start of our journey, as I began to pull out of my parking space. I simply cut the car off and back on, as a part of the computer generation that thinks everything can be solved with a reboot, and things seemed to be fine. The car did work, and so we came on, driving through storms and bad weather, with very low visibility some days. It wasn't until we got to Atlanta that we found out my brake lights were out. When we got back home, my brother looked at it, couldn't find the problem, but did note that two of my bulbs had blown, not both brake lights. I found out there was a recall on the brake light switched. That was what caused the odd power loss and indicator light thing at the beginning of the trip. The switch failed. It was replaced, and my brake lights worked again. Until apparently just recently, when a different bulb blew.

So my mom recalls part of this story for the police officer. Now, I may talk too much sometimes, but I do have the ability to realize when I am telling on myself, and not do it. My mom does not.

I can not believe that she told the officer that we did something so dangerous.

I ask if he responded to her story. He did not. He was probably thinking something along the same lines I did.

He let her go with the ticket, and thankfully didn't imprison her for something else she ended up tackling her self into committing, nor did he impound my car to keep it out of the hands of people who would admit their crimes as such.

My mom immediately called my little brother. She did not call to tell him that she needed the car light fixed, really, though that did come up. She called to tell him that he caused her to get a ticket.

I will say it is partially his fault, but let's be honest. If mom had just taken her own car, this would not have happened.
Maybe it was better that she got the ticket rather than me. I think I would have probably lost it, but I would have done so internally, at least until the officer left.

I'm Third Fiddle

My mom is in visiting. I love her. I really do. I am ever thankful that she is here, helping out, and doing what she can to make my life easier. Mainly, she is taking care of the girls, which is honestly all that I want or need. She pretty much takes over with the girls the moment she gets in. In fact, I kind of get pushed out the door.

Once my mom, or Mim Mim as she is known around here, gets in, the Big One instantly asks me when I am leaving so that Mim can baby sit. They don't even play like they need me or miss me.

The Big One wants only my mom to take her to school, which actually meant that I had to load everyone up, drop them both at the designated area, circle around while mom walks her into the school and to class, and finally come back for mom. As long as she feels like Mim is taking her, that is ok, though.

Mim takes them to the park with out me. She stops the ice cream truck, something I never do, to make sure they get a treat.

In fact, though she is my mom, I can tell you that she really doesn't even come to see me. No. I am welcome to go where ever I like, when ever I like, and she will be here with the kids. That is the way she likes it. We spend some time together, but it isn't a lot. I don't really mind playing third fiddle anymore. I don't know if I ever did. I appreciate her help so much, that I am willing to give up first and second chairs, and skooch on over to the third, as a trade off for a little peace and quiet. Really, I am just so thankful that they both love my mom, and value her. I am also thankful that they get the benefit of all of her wisdom and experience. I hope that she imparts a little of herself into both of them each and every time she is with them. If that means I take the backseat, so be it. It is more roomy back there anyway.

My Mother...

In one of my thousand calls with my mom this week, I got what had to be the best news that I have heard in sometime. It ranks right up there with hearing that your daughters are fine after they are born.

My mom is no longer fighting cancer. She is done. She has been dealing with cancer for over 6 years now, between finding out she had it, the surgery, the chemo, radiation, and even the pill form of chemo. She finally finished her last pill, and was given the all clear.

I can not tell you how happy that makes me. I can not express to you how my heart feels when I think about my mom, no longer needing those medications, and actually being healthy. I realize, though it saddens me, that she will never be the same as she was before that disease afflicted her body, but she is better and hopefully, now that those drugs are going to begin to leave her system, she will continue to get stronger.

As mother's day is fast approaching, I am even more pensive about how much she means to my life.

She is not just my mom, she is my friend. She is the person who taught me to be me. She is the one from whom I draw my creative and cooking inspirations. More importantly, she is my daily inspiration. The older I get, the more I want to be like her. I want to have her knack for witty comebacks. I want to have the patience and wisdom that she has, to know when not to use those comebacks.
No matter my age, I think I will always aspire to be someone that she will be proud of. I want to be a good mother, like her, and be a strong woman, like her.

She really is my rock, if ever anyone was such a thing.

I will never forget the day that she told me she had breast cancer. It was both a beautiful and painful day. She found out in January of that year that she had cancer. I was pregnant with our first child at the time. We don't have the best history when it comes to pregnancies. She decided that she didn't want to risk the stress of telling me. So, she told no one. Not one person knew that she had cancer. My dad finally guessed, but she had no intention of telling him until it was time, either. She put off her treatment, and waited. I never knew. My husband was deployed, and we had planned on my mom being in the birthing room with me. She made plans to come down and stay with me for a month before the baby came. She came down, but still I didn't know. My husband came home early and was able to be there for our daughter's birth. Mom wasn't in the room, as we had to go into an OR, but she was there, waiting. She was in the postpartum room when I got there, waiting. She had gotten to see her grandchild.

It was there, in that postpartum room that I found out. She told me that she had cancer, and had kept it s secret for me. She had to tell me right away, because she had to head home immediately to have surgery, and begin her treatment for the disease. She had waited for me, and suffered for me. Her sister, my aunt, who was with her, didn't even know. She bore that burden alone for months, in order to protect me, and my unborn child. I can not imagine what it took to do that alone, but I love her all the more for it.

As I said, she is my rock, and I can not imagine my life without her. I think that if I stopped calling my mom, the phone company would call to check on my line of their own accord. It is that serious.

So, this post is for the most fabulous, intelligent, and inspiring woman that has ever graced this earth, at least my portion of it, my mother. Thank you for being you, and being my mom. I love you, mom, forever and always.