#Kellen has amazing delivery

[ginag30]

The Mom, The Myth, The Legend

I’m most certainly turning into my mother.  I fall asleep on the couch at an egregiously early hour, would be content to have popcorn for dinner most nights, and follow my family around the house turning off the lights in the rooms they have abandoned.  Becoming a mom myself has made me hyper reflective, particularly when it comes to my very own super hero mom.  No soliloquy is adequate to capture all that she’s done or all that she is to me, but these are the real memories and emotions I associate with the woman I spend each and every day trying to emulate.   

The most important thing I have learned from my mom is the importance of home base.   I can honestly say that all of my favorite memories of my childhood surround that beautiful home and peaceful country road outside of Penfield where I grew up.  Riding our Illini golf cart through what seemed like mountainous rows of evergreens as a little kid.  Clothes-pinning cards in our bicycle spokes.  Picking apples.  Walks to the bridge.  Homemade popsicles on a hot summer day.  All five of us falling asleep on the family room floor many nights.  Simple things. We didn’t run around like crazy.  We didn’t have to be entertained all the time.

Looking back, I now realize that my Mom turned down a lot of her own social outings so she could be home with us.  Outside of occasional Friday afternoon gatherings with some close teacher friends (“splitting” a beer on-ice), I don’t remember my mom doing much without one or all of us in tow.  She was and still is happiest when we’re all home together.  I hope I give my kids the same gift of always feeling like the best memories happen in the everyday moments. 

Mom also taught all three of us the importance of hard work.  Over the years, I heard many accounts of mom’s hard work on display as Grandpa’s sidekick at Gordon’s Grocery.  As a little girl, she stocked shelves, quartered chickens, inventoried the popular “Red Ball Jets” (apparently the hottest sneakers of the 50s and 60s), and more.  Her work ethic has been on display her entire life.  I honestly can’t remember her ever calling in sick to work.  After retirement, she was on-call as the lead substitute teacher for more than a decade.  Many of those years she worked the max amount of days allowable under Teachers’ Retirement, because she loved still working with kids and still enjoyed connecting with her long-time teacher friends.

Mom gave up many of her summers off shuffling us around to basketball camps and other activities, but she sacrificed the most when she chauffeured us to summer jobs.  All three of us worked in the corn fields at least a summer or two in our teens, before we were old enough to drive.  We started early in the morning to avoid the heat and they would call it a day when the heat either got too bad or we finished a field.  We never knew quitting time from day to day.  Mom was on call ALL summer.  She had to forgo her own commitments to help us honor ours.  But, she was teaching us the important lesson of hard work.  When the summer was over, Mom made me invest in my first IRA at age 14.  She matched my contribution as an acknowledgement of pride she had in me for sticking with a pretty hot, pretty miserable job all summer.  That summer I learned the value of a dollar, and more importantly, the pride that comes with earning it. 

I’d be remiss to no comment on mom’s cooking.  Mom is admittedly not a master chef, but her best dish undoubtedly cannot be topped – Rice Krispy Treats.   They are famous.  A staple on Summer Sunday’s at the Dorsey’s swimming pool or any other Penfield Pot Luck.  Legendary.  If I asked her to pass down the recipe, she’d tell me there is none.  It’s not a guise either.  She needs no measuring cup – she simply eyeballs the ratio of krispies to melted marshmallow until her instinct tells her it’s the perfect gooey mixture.  They are the best version of stretchy, stick-to-your fingers good.  And, even at 34, she makes me a batch when I come home.  I selfishly try to hide them from my kids, but love that they are as obsessed with them as I am.

Mom and I didn’t have one of those strained teenage mother/daughter relationships.  We stayed close even through those trying years. I’ve even forgiven her for the horrible perms and choppy haircuts.  In fact, we often joke that the only time I’ve really been mad at her was when she told off my Freshman basketball coach outside of the locker room following a game.  It was completely out of character for the most poised woman I know.  While her language was less than severe (perhaps borrowed from one of her 1st grade students) her delivery was fiery.  I was furious.  But I also learned in that very moment that I would ALWAYS have someone in my corner, no matter what.  And, that person was my mom.  That single revelation was a long-lived result of a short-lived moment of embarrassment.  

Sometimes being a mother extends beyond just your own children.   Mothering can simply being a verb used to describe loving, caring for, and guiding children through life.  Doing the math, my mom had a mothering role for over 1,000 kids over the course of her more than 45 years of teaching and subbing.  For the children in our community that came from loving homes and families, she reinforced these good values in the classroom.  For the children that weren’t as fortunate, her classroom became a much bigger stage for teaching them how to love and be loved, how to be kind, and how to grow as individuals.  So 9 months out of the year I shared my mom with 3-30 (there were some small classes at the old Penfield Grade School) other kids, but I didn’t mind.  I think I’ve always known that Mom’s heart has never had boundaries when it’s come to loving little ones. 

Being the daughter of Mrs. Grussing made me a local celebrity of sorts.  Later in life, former students would often come up to me in the grocery store (or local bar) and tell me my mom was their favorite teacher.  I always responded with, “Mine too!”  She actually taught all three of us in Kindergarten, and, yes, we called her Mrs. Grussing just like all of the other kids.  One of the best things about Mom, the teacher, was that she was so trusted by her students.  In fact, she had a reputation for being the go-to for any kid with a loose tooth.  5+ years after being her class, kids terrified by a dangling tooth would be referred to Mrs. Grussing.  And with the slight of the hand not unlike that of a talented magician, she’d gently pull the tooth, staple together a handmade packet for them to put under their pillow, and send them back out into the world to show off their new, toothless smile.

As a kid, I loved hanging out with Mom after school, helping her clean the blackboards and overhead transparencies, and organizing all of the tangrams.  Most of all, I loved being in earshot of the all of the teachers’ afterschool conversations.  I overheard a lot over the years, but never really pieced all together until I was older!  When I was in college, Mom invited to her classroom on “Dr. Seuss Day” to be a mystery reader.  It was one of my most memorable experiences.  The kids beamed as she interacted with them.  It was so inspiring to see her in her element and to see the sheer love the kids had for her. 

Her most GRAND moment has come as she has become a grandmother to now NINE adoring grandkids.  Her heart swells when they are around.  Her lighthearted side is on full display, and she buzzes around much like she did 30+ years ago when I was a young kid – making sure they’re all fed, getting down on the floor to play games, laughing with them, and showering them with positive comments.  They climb in her lap for a book, and she reads with the inflection, cadence, and voice artistry of a seasoned storyteller.

She’s my go-to now in a whole different capacity.  She is my best friend and my most trusted advisor.  When I’m frustrated with my own kids, she reinforces every amazing and unique quality they have and tells me I won’t remember these trying times – that I’ll only look back one day at the grown men they become and beam with pride. I guess it’s her subtle way of also saying she has forgotten (or forgiven) all the hardships Michael, Chris, and me put her through.  When Kellen showed no interest in writing letters, let alone his name, she brought a special dry erase pad for him down during one of her visits. Kellen and Grandma disappeared upstairs.  A very proud Kellen walked downstairs 10 minutes later with his name carefully penned.  Once a teacher, always a teacher. 

When you are younger, people sometimes say, “You’re going to be just like your mom one day.”  The visceral response as a young kid, is often, “No way!”  But, as I’ve matured, I find there’s no greater compliment.  After all, what’s better to strive for than loving, kind, and selfless?  I could only hope to be just like her one day.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!  I love you and appreciate you!

Love,

Gina