My Mom was such a funny woman. She left me with so many memories we will never run out of stories, and I hope I can write each one. I just have all of these funny memories running through my head and I simply have to share.
My Mom was what we called a Nightime Snacker. Moments after dinner she would start...the snacking time. It starts now and goes until she's too tired to eat any more. The variety of snacks varied widely but she would find her latest obsession--I remember the different ones I can think of off the top of my head...peanuts, apples, grapefruit, gummy bears, popcorn, ice cream, fudgcicles, licorice etc etc etc. She would develop the obsession and then she would get the largest container you've ever seen in your life of the obsession. She was buying peanuts in bulk at one time! I had to take her to Sam's club when she was here so she could get the GIGANTIC tub of peanuts.
My Mom was terrified of insects. Spiders were the worst, but pretty much any and all bugs in nature were bad. And she had the most amount of run-ins with bugs that made you wonder if the bug world knew she hated every last one of them and they conspired to torture her throughout her life. The worst "bug episode" I ever witnessed was the famous (at least in our family because all who were present will never forget it) June bug incident. We were living in a 4-plex in south Minneapolis. We were having what the parents called a "family meeting". My brother and I had a different name, but I'll just leave that to your imagination. Serious family issues like cleaning and schedules and duties were discussed. (Yawn) We were sitting there discussing and Mom had a blouse with a sweater over it. She kept pulling at her sweater on the side as we talked. It kept irritating her. I asked what was wrong. She said the blouse was picking her, couldn't figure out why. She finally reached up between the sweater and blouse. That's when the screaming started. She pulled at her sweater like it was on fire. A June bug came out from under her arm. That was what was picking her. She was jumping around screaming, trying to get the sweater off, it's stuck on her arms and she's looks like a crazy person. She gets one side off and is trying to unbutton the blouse, throwing the sweater in the air screaming "Get it OFF me!!!!" Dad came over and told her it was gone, put her blouse back around her took her over and sat her down while she still a bit hysterically pointing to the spot where the June bug was under her arm and half talking half crying words she couldn't quite complete, reliving the whole experience. Bugs 1, Mom, 0.
My Mom always said exactly what she meant. If I asked her if an outfit looked good, if she liked it, then she said so and comment on how the color brought out your eyes, the style is so you...on and on. And she would mean every word. But if she didn't think it looked good, she would tell you it didn't look good, and then go into detail of why it doesn't look good--hips look wide, legs look stuffed into it, makes you look big. But I never doubted that she was sincere or truthful. In fact, she used to tell me about her mother, my Grandma Watters and how she would just say what she thought no matter who was there and Mom used to laugh because people would nearly choke on their drink because it was so direct and frank. My Grandma was the most wonderful little old Grandma; she called everybody HoneyDarling. So that abrupt truth in your face was so unexpected. It was the aloof French in her, she said. But as much as my Mom was instructed how Irish she was, she couldn't escape that the French personality traits that came through her blood. She never saw how similar she was to her Mom.
I hope you all enjoy this little Mom storytelling session. There may be more of these stories--I think it was very therapeutic to tell these stories to you out there. I appreciate everybody who reads this and I hope it makes you smile.
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