Mom: The Best Cheerleader Ever

Written By: Kim - May• 07•11

This weekend is Mother’s Day. It’s the ninth one that I have celebrated motherless. My first Mother’s Day without my Mom, I was a wreck. I was in a Hallmark story buying cards for both my mother-in-laws when the sales person asked if I was picking out a card for my Mom. I replied curtly, “My Mother is dead.”  I am not sure who was shocked more because saying it out loud was still kind of foreign to me. I could not hold it together long enough to get out of the mall without bursting in to tears. Nine years later, Mother’s Day still leaves me with void that only a Mom can fill.

The Wickline family 1968.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a home with two loving parents. I was the last of five and it was my Mom’s second marriage. She and my Dad were married five years before I came along. In between that time, she miscarried a baby boy. I was planned for and wanted. I always felt loved.

Dad was in the US Army and sometimes he was deployed elsewhere in the world. My one, true constant was my Mother. She was there through everything good or bad; glorious or tragic. Alone, she kept our family together while my Dad was deployed twice to Vietnam, once to Thailand and once to Korea.

Although I put my father on a pedestal like many daughters do, it was my Mother who was my rock. It was my Mother who provided me with the foundation for my faith. The one who practiced, as well as she could, what she preached. The one who cherished all of her children because she knew they were a gift from God. The one who always had a smile on her face for me and open arms when I needed a hug.

Don’t get me wrong: my relationship with my Mom was far from perfect. At times, she drove me nuts and we would argue. Constantly reminding me to buckle my seat belt when I was a teenager (smart move). Waiting up until I came home. Draping me in everything pastel or ruffles. There were discussions during wedding dress shopping (she caved), about my children’s names (we kept them) and that noise she used to make when cheering at high school football games. It’s a good thing my Mom was so well read because she knew that tribal women in other countries made this noise, but it was still embarrassing. Thank God I was huddled up with the band during high school football games. My Dad should get a medal for having to endure those embarrassing moments.

As a woman who had a high school education, Mom was extremely proud of me when I earned my college and graduate degrees. But she was also just as proud when I gave birth to two beautiful children. She always told me I could be anything I wanted. She believed in me so I could believe in myself. She instilled this message in me so I could pass it along to my kids.

Me and Mom; Mother's Day 1987.

Please hug your Mom one more time and tell her you love her for me and the children like me who no longer can say it to their Moms.

 

Women Who Drive the Family Car and the Men Who Love Them

Written By: Kim - Mar• 13•11

I grew up in a traditional household. My Dad worked two — sometimes three — jobs when necessary so that my Mom could be a homemaker. She detested the word housewife. I wonder what she would think about all these reality shows and how these housewives are about as far removed from being a housewife as the pope.

My Dad did all the family driving when we were together. Mom would help on long road trips so he could rest, but for the most part, Dad was the primary driver. Everywhere. We were also, as far back as I can remember, a two-car family. Mom drove around town running errands, picking up sick kids from school and dropping us off at sports or band practices. A second car was as much of a necessity then as it is now in the suburbs.

Mom with our workhorse van, a 1981 Dodge Ram.

I am old-fashioned girl in some respects. If you are in a traditional relationship, then the man should drive the family car. He’s the head of the household; king of his kingdom, driver of his chariot.

We are also Catholic. Our church’s families run the gamut from traditional to, well, about as cutting-edge as you can be and still be Catholic. So, why are these wives driving the family to church? Dad sits right up front being chauffeured by his wife. Honestly, they never look happy. But, who drives the family car definitely makes a statement. It’s clearly states, “I am in charge.”

These families are also showing their children that just because Mom works inside the home doesn’t mean she can’t be in charge. They are showing their children that both Dad and Mom can be in a leadership role. They are telling their children that it’s ok to share power. This is certainly positive re-enforcement that teaches children valuable lessons.

That said, I am still a traditional wife. My husband drives us everywhere. He is head of the household, king of his kingdom and driver of his chariot.

I however am the navigator and perfectly content to be the passenger.