Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia

As Mother’s Day approaches, our thoughts turn to our moms. Somewhere along the way, the roles switch. Thankful to still have her and thankful her mind and wit are still sharp. “Raising” mom has been a flashback to childhood.   

Take Saturday bath night: As a child, I would argue with mom about taking a bath. Saturdays were often spent playing in the potato fields and climbing haystacks with Ray and Kent. We would cool off by swimming in the 3-foot-deep irrigation ditch. That was a bath in my mind. She always won though. 

Now she is the one that doesn’t always want to take a bath. One time as I was trying to get her in the bath, she was arguing. Told her she stunk. She said she didn’t care. After telling her that her physical therapist Whitney was coming,  “She didn’t want to stink for him did she?” She again said she didn’t care. 

The bathtime routine continued despite her protest, as she undressed, she could smell herself and said, “Oh I do stink. Whitney needs to thank you.” 

Another time she said she was refusing to take a bath and kept saying “I’m not taking a bath,” the entire time, even after she was in the bathtub. She repeated it over and over. I finally said to her “You know you are in the bath, taking a bath, right?” She responded, “Yes but the rebel in me is still fighting it.”  

She is a night owl, so going to bed at midnight was a normal thing. For months, we would argue about her going to bed earlier. Long, long discussions ensued for a compromise. She came up with the perfect solution from her point of view. At 10:30 p.m. she gets to eat ice cream while I read her a devotional. Well-played mom. 

Once, I told her there were five things I never thought I would say to my mom. 1. It is past your bedtime. 2. Don’t look at me with that tone of voice. 3. May I have your teeth? 4. You can’t stay in bed all day. 5. I hope your face freezes that way. 

She calmly replied, “You know how to get around this don’t you? Me: “How?”  Mom: “Don’t say them.” How do you argue with that? You don’t. 

Recently as I put her to bed she said, “Every night you are here putting me to bed. Do you get paid?” I replied, “Yes, by spending time with you.” She snorted and said, “You are grossly underpaid.” Oh, mama mia. You are a blessing and a joy. Thank you for the laughter every single day.  Happy Mother’s Day.