What’s your favorite memory of your mom that is something she did that no one else did, something quirky or endearing that really makes you smile?
All this week, we want to collect everyone’s favorite ‘mom-isms’ and compile them for a Good News Network Mother’s Day post on Sunday. Please share yours in the comments below, or use Twitter and Facebook with the hashtag #MyMomism
To start us off, I’ve asked my Good News Network team to share their favorite endearing memories of mom…
Terry Turner, Writer
We heard plenty of “momisms” in our house and they sounded like her own language. Three of my favorites are “permalet” (something the beauty parlor does to your hair); “fax” (which referred to everything involving the Internet, social media, texting or any other digital format — as in, ‘fax me when you get there’); and “jijantic” (something big –– as in, ‘Godzilla is a jijantic lizard’). I still can’t pronounce gigantic correctly after hearing her use this so often.
Charlie Towne, GNN business partner
In grade school the guys would stop on their bikes at our house, which was the last stop before school – they would gather in the kitchen while Mom finished my lunch. If they got too rowdy she would “remind” them that she had been a world wrestling champion––and had the belt to prove it. She was all of 80 pounds but somehow was able to perpetuate this story for a long time without having to produce the evidence – despite constant requests from the guys to see her belt… Love her madly and miss her.
Kristy Cooper, Contributor
When I think of mom’s cute traits I immediately smile about her lifelong fitness addiction. Nowadays, everyone AND their grandmothers stay in shape. The billion dollar fitness industry is widely embraced. However, when I was little, this was considered quirky and definitely not the norm. Back when fast food ruled, mom made us drink wheat germ while my friends guzzled Kool-Aid. I opened my lunch box to find a dessert of carrots with raisins, while my friends had Twinkies and cupcakes. Mom was the resident “Jane Fonda” teaching aerobics every day after work and dragging me and my two sisters along. Decades later, we are all grateful for mom’s enthusiasm. The youngest runs marathons, the middle wins fitness competitions and I have a nutrition degree.
McKinley Corbley, Editorial Assistant
My mom is really into music. She’s always said that if she wasn’t a business woman, she would’ve been a singer. Whenever a new album is released by any of her favorite bands, you’d better BELIEVE that you are going to be hearing it 254,834 times. Not only would the album be accompanied by her harmonized singing, but a kind of wiggly grooving that could’ve maybe been dancing? (I’m kidding, Mom.) My fondest memory of this is when we went out together and Blurred Lines started playing on the jukebox. Mom jumped off her stool and started boogying about the bar. “Mom, this song is awful, have you listened to the lyrics, what’re you doing!?”
“But it’s just so catchy!” she exclaimed gleefully.
Helaina Hovitz, Deputy Editor
My mom likes to pretend that she doesn’t love animals, but she does. I’ve seen her sneaking kisses to our dog when she thinks nobody’s looking, and talking to him in a baby voice when she brushes his paws.
I remember back in third grade, when I brought home my first pet, Sally the hamster, she pretended she wasn’t that into her. Sally was originally our class pet, and I’d volunteered to take care of her over winter break. I grew attached to her and asked the class if I could keep her. One day, when Sally didn’t wake up from her nap, I marched into my mom’s room and announced, through tears “Sally’s dead!” We put her in a box and buried her in the backyard and my father and I said a few words. I was very upset. I cried all night. My mom cried too.
(Top photo by Irelynkiss)
Tell Us Your Favorite Mom-ism Below, or Post on Twitter/FB with #MyMomism
We were a typical 50s family. My parents loved each other and adored my brother and me. In fact, my parents rarely, if ever, argued or fought. My Mom fully supported her husband, she made him the king of his castle, but there was little doubt she was truly the boss. Once a year, or so, my Mom needed to assert herself just a little. So she’d load up the trunk of her car with her stainless steel pots and pans. She’d be gone for the day, no one knew where she’d gone, and by the time she returned my Dad was apoplectic. She’d always return by dark, nothing was said (that my brother and I knew of) and peace and happiness returned to the house. In later years my brother and I asked her “But why always the pots and pans?” Her answer? “Well I loved those pots and pans!” Things were simpler then.
Often times, mothers never receive the acknowledgement they deserve in shaping the type of people her children will become. This was the case with my mom. As a young child right up until I became grown, each Thanksgiving my mom would go down the street and bring home a complete stranger to have dinner with us. Not only did she bring him inside our home, but she would have him shower, put on some of my dad’s clothes so he would feel good and be presentable at dinner with our family. After dinner, she made sure he had plenty of leftovers for additional meals. He also got to keep the clothes. Little did I know she was demonstrating what is means to have true compassion for others. For this I am so proud and grateful to my mother for instilling such a valuable life lesson in me.
Thanks to our mom for all she did for everyone! We love & miss you greatly!
The usual “eyes in the back of my head” had a whole new meaning when the Zambian children at the orphanage I ran dared each other to check out to see if I really had eyes in the back of my head. Two little girls asked to comb and plat (braid) my long hair. While doing this I heard them whispering to the others nearby that no there wasn’t an extra set of eyes. I could see their reflections in the window and commented that I could see them all back there. They all jumped back, giggling and ran to tell the others that I indeed had eyes in the back of my head but they were invisible!
It’s crazy when I think of it now, but the first thought I have of my mother is when she used to clean my ears out with a ‘bobby pin.’ She would sit with my head on her warm lap in a window alcove so the sunlight could pour into my soiled ear and she would dig away gently, both hands resting on my head, and then release a large chunk of gunk exclaiming ‘you could grow potatoes in here.’ Being one of nine children in Canada’s frozen north, these were the few times I could enjoy one-on-one warmth with the wonderful soul who brought me here. Have to clean my own ears now …