Momma Bear

I called my mom the other day because it was my older brother's birthday and I wanted to make sure I had his correct phone number. She filled me in on the current family news:
Jason failed two semesters at Oxnard College, so he's taking a break from school to not lose his GI Bill in the future.
Jacob has stopped going to church and has a boyfriend.
My mom has a boyfriend.
My crazy aunt is getting married in two weeks (there's hope for me after all...).
Jason has a girlfriend. She is twelve years older than he is and is currently going through her second divorce (read: she's currently married) and has five children, the oldest of which is 6 years younger than Jason.

It's exhausting. And disappointing, in regards to the Jacob thing. It sucks because I stopped worrying about him. I thought that he had it down. I thought that he was doing a great job (even better than me). And it's hard to have such high hopes for someone and then to see them fall again. We all do it. The subject matter is different, and the falls are smaller or larger, but it's still hard to watch. I love my brother, but right now I don't even know what to say to him. I don't want him to feel like I don't love him anymore. But I want to encourage him to keep going to church no matter what, even if he is doing something contrary to gospel standards, because we all are to some degree. But I don't know how to not be condescending or self righteous.

I've been wanting to write for awhile about my mom. I don't give her much credit. She has issues. Our relationship has issues. But she was a great mom when I was younger, and I know that she is the way she is because of things that have happened in her life.

My mom was the third of six children and the second girl. My grandpa hit her. She tells stories of him yanking her hair of hitting her with a wooden spoon. To her father she was nothing, especially next to her older sister. Deena never did anything wrong while my mom did everything wrong. She was a tomboy that was often told that girls were supposed to be "seen and not heard". My grandma took to bed as soon as the kids were semi old enough to fend for themselves. Literally, stayed in bed all day long even though she was not sick. The house was disgusting and cleaning and cooking were up to the kids. My mom tells stories about eating a huge pot of beans off the stove for days, or of eating cheese dipped in ketchup on the porch steps. She told me once that when she was six she spilled hot water on her shirt while draining pasta. At six my mom was responsible for making dinner for the entire family. One night while my mom was brushing her mother's hair my grandma started to cry. My mom asked what was wrong. My grandma responded that she was ugly, and felt bad because my mother looked just like her. My grandparents had some pretty crazy notions about my grandma being the future Queen of Portugal (and some other stuff) and had their kids so convinced that when my mother was engaged she confessed it to my dad. My mom had a rough childhood, to say the least. After doing really well in high school she told my grandparents that she wanted to go to college. They told her that the only college she was allowed to go to was the local one. She wanted to get away and they wouldn't let her. So she didn't go to school and instead worked to help buy groceries for the family. So when my dad came along, she was desperate to leave, so she married him.

My dad showed her pretty fast that he didn't think she was worth much, either. He decided when she would go to college and what classes she would take and what she would major in. If she did well on a test it was because of him. On their honeymoon my mom told me that she was in so much pain that she would fear going back to the cabin they were staying at, and when she told my dad how much she hurt he told her that she needed to get used to it because he was her husband. When my older brother was a baby she got in a huge fight with my dad right before she flew out for her sister's wedding. She decided on the flight that she was not going back to him. However he spent tons of money (that they did not have) to fly out first class last minute. While at the wedding my mom was helping clean up and my dad got mad because she was not watching Jason. She said that the only reason she was glad that he came after her was because if he hadn't she'd never have had me and Jacob.

My dad was not a good husband to her. And he wasn't a good dad for a long time (although he is much better now). Growing up Jacob and I felt that our dad hated us. When my mom told him she wanted a divorce in 1997 his reply was that he wanted the dog. My mom sheltered us in my youth. She was wonderful. She was our rock. She did her best to protect us. She loved us. She cared for us. She encouraged us. She moved us to Arizona while my dad was still working in California intending to divorce him. When it didn't work out the way we planned we moved back to California... but my mom stayed in Arizona to "tie up loose strings". She had intended to stay there, away from the mental and other abuses that she suffered from my dad. However, after repeated calls from her crying children she realized that she couldn't leave us alone, and she came back to us. A year or two later my dad would suggest to her to have gastric bypass surgery, which she did (he would suggest the same thing to me several times). And she would have continued to stay with my dad if he hadn't broken Jacob's door down to hit him after he exclaimed at dinner "You don't love me and Jess as much as you love Jason!" So while my dad was in Maine house shopping, on my 15th birthday she emptied out the house of all that we wanted and moved me and Jacob to a small, two bedroom apartment. And even though she knew she wouldn't have enough money to support us without relying on the church for help, after I cried that I couldn't leave our dog Bridger she begged the landlord to let us keep him on a tiny patio. A few months later Bridger would get so sick that she couldn't afford to pay for the medication and she had him put down, and told us that he died because he was so sick. The whole time we lived in that apartment she slept on the couch so that Jacob and I could have our own rooms. She was the best mother she could be, and she was so brave to leave. I knew that she was scared, but she did it for us.

I suppose that I understand why she rebounded as fast as she did. She just wanted to be loved. She wanted an adult man, for once in her life, to love her. And that's why she spends so much time trying to find someone now- because she just wants to be loved and taken care of. And if I had lived her life, wouldn't I be doing the same thing? She's my mom. And deep down I love her. She has been the best mom that she has known how to be. She loves her kids, and accepts us even when we make decisions that she is not proud of. She has a good heart. And she loves children! Tonight she is holding her Second Annual Princess Party- a party with tons of little girls dressed up as princesses with cake. And she does it because one day a five year old asked her when they were going to have a party with "no grownups, just friends." She is a good woman. And she is my mother.