Happy Labor Day, Mom!

Sunday morning, I awoke to the familiar sound of Mr. Coffee brewing Folger's.

Not quite awake, I rolled over and found Julie still in bed next to me.

With a smile in her voice, Julie said, "You know your mom.  She didn't get to bed until after midnight, and she's already up making coffee."

That made me so happy to know I would go out and see my cheerful Mom, who would be reading the morning Orange Country Register, I rolled over immediately to get out of bed.

I realized I wasn't in Mom's den, but in my own house.  I opened my eyes wider and looked over at Julie's spot.  She wasn't there.  Even more suprising, the digital clock on the bed stand read 8:12 AM.

While that's not exactly sleeping in for most people, I rarely am in bed that late.  And then the bigger shock hit me.

Mom passed away over ten years ago.  It had only been a vivid dream, a short reminder of how Mom would be up before the chickens to prepare the way for her family.

My kids will always remember those wonderful breakfasts she would cook for us anytime we went to her house in the morning.  Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and, best of all, diced hash brown potatoes, pan fried to perfection, which she had chopped out of fresh potatoes long before we had awakened.

Her only vice, if you could call it that, was her morning newspaper.  She was a brilliant woman who loved being well-informed.

In an era before microwaves, fast food was boiling water to make hot dogs, but she rarely resorted to that.  She would make three delicious meals a day.  In elementary school, I would run home for lunch, and she'd usually have hot soup and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for me.  We would watch a few minutes of "Let's Make a Deal" together while we ate, and then I would tear out to get back to school before lunch hour ended, so I could play four square or basketball with my friends.

Cleaning the house and doing the laundry certainly aren't glamorous, but anyone who has taken on that burden with kids who tend to throw their clothes on the floor when they change outfits for a different activity know how essential and time-consuming that can be.

She always made the household run like clockwork and kept the place tidy, so any time friends stopped over, we were proud to ask them in.  She never acted like any of her labor was a burden, because in her mind, it wasn't compared to her life growing up on a farm, an era she also enjoyed.

Everyone felt welcome.  Friends my age could grab a piece of individually wrapped candy from the crystal dish in the living room or a can of Shasta soda from the fridge.  Adults who visited would soon find her slipping off to brew some fresh coffee.  We didn't have alcohol in our house, but nobody seemed to mind.  In fact, I think the little kids preferred it that way.  One of my cousin's later related that "Aunt Mary's house was always a happy place to go."

We would have family feasts on holidays, but even on non-holidays, I think she always cooked about twice as much food as necessary, just in case someone wanted to join us.  And they all did, happily.  My lifelong friend Mike Rood came by Mom's house the day before she went in for the operation in which she passed away.  He had called my cell when I had stopped in to take her for her final pre-op checkups.  Mom was always so happy to have friends appreciate her cooking, and Mike stopping in to share homemade bean soup was like a gift for her, if you can grasp that.

My dad was a hard worker, too, putting in 12 hour days regularly in his beauty salon.  Mom would make him hot dinners covered in aluminum foil and make the fifteen minute drive each way to his shop to deliver them.  I remember sometimes the fog being as thick as pea soup on the road between Westminster and Seal Beach, and it would take a lot longer to make that drive, but that was part of the gift to support her husband fully.

Mom also worked at the school library and was usually the "room mother."  I still remember one of the little girls in my class saying how beautiful my mother was.  Mom always dressed smartly, with carefully selected jewelry as accents.  Her makeup and hair were always flawless.  I looked over at Mom and realized that girl was right.

Yes, I know that last part isn't politically correct these days, so let me say, I looked at her and realized, "Wow, what a capable, industrious woman."

She also helped Dad with Nutrilite/Amway sales, including hosting large yard parties and evening meetings.  Mom started working at the Broadway a couple of days a week while I was a senior in high school.  I remember she was very proud to have bought Dad a Craftsman tool chest with her earnnings, and while their marriage didn't last much longer, I think he really appreciated that gift.

She later went on to work at a complex job that failed to adequately reward her abilities, while continuing to work part time at Broadway.  Later she sold Avon, and built a thriving business, but its her labor as a full-time Mom that I salute today.

I usually think of Dad at Labor Day, because he was one of the most dedicated workers I ever knew, or certainly my wife Julie, who battled attorneys and regulations for long, grueling days and still had energy for her family.  I should also acknowledge all of our children, who have proven to be dilligent in their own distinctive careers.  I think everyone who goes to a job deserves a day in their honor.

Being a stay-at-home mother, however, is a lot of work, too, and for a mother, there's never a day off.  I just wanted to acknowledge that today.