The fun days of motherhood

Jamie Parsell
Bluefield Daily Telegraph

May 09, 2008 01:50 pm

— It’s Mother’s Day. Did you go out and buy flowers and a card? Make a pancake breakfast with fresh fruit? I hope that all mothers receive some sort of thank you for the pain of childbirth, the ever-present empty pocketbook and the new strands of gray hair.
The rosy pictures of Hallmark with sweet couplets and sonnets mask the reality of motherhood. And for good reasons —the real world is a chaotic obstacle course filled with dirty diapers, laundry, homework, driving lessons, curfew and college debt. All forgiven with Band-Aids, a kiss and a hug and a greeting card.
But on this 100th anniversary of Mother’s Day, let’s forget about the bad and the ugly and concentrate on the funny.
Barely 1-year-old, I plucked a leaf from my mom’s African violet plant. I held it in my tiny hand and refused to give it back, so my mom recalls. The minute after she said, “Jamie, give it to me.” I proceeded to put the leaf in my mouth and swallow it whole.
Thankfully, I do not have any memory of this, but she loves to tell the story. As a child, I flipped my bike, ate bugs and plants and created messes that became some of my mother’s favorite stories.
Around the newsroom, my African violet story induced other reporters and staff members to reveal their own stories of childhood and their mothers that grew to laugh with their roles of motherhood.
City Editor Charles Owens’ mother probably wished he would have had a better sense of navigation on his bike. Growing up in McDowell County, he missed a turn and crashed into a telephone pole. Sitting in his chair, he can still point out the stitches and scars like a war veteran.
Managing Editor Samantha Perry revealed her daredevil side with stories about bikes, bugs and dogs. But the ultimate story — the day her older brother, Billy, tied her pigtails to a chestnut tree limb and left her there for about a half hour. And like most mothers, her own came running to the rescue.
Sue Richmond, a copy coordinator at the Daily Telegraph, does not remember eating an ashtray full of cigarettes and ashes, but her mother loved to tell the story of her daughter’s ashy meal.
And, finally, News Editor Andy Patton’s mother knew she had a firecracker on her hand after her son lit a firecracker and threw it in the bathtub. With ears ringing and a new black ring in the bathtub, Andy was caught red handed by both parents.
At the time, busted knees, knotted pigtails and upset stomachs are not funny or endearing moments for mothers. I am sure my mother was not happy to have a daughter eating plants for snack time. Back then, accidents and incidents fell under the chaotic routine of motherhood — with exasperated sighs and tears.
Fast forward more than 25 years and the chaos has slowed and the bumps and bruises are minor. Plants stay in one piece, bikes stay on the road and firecrackers are left untouched by small hands. Around the table and in the workplace, the stories of motherhood and childhood spill forth, brimming with laughter and smiles. For a moment, we are all children again without worry about relationships, bills, deadlines or schedules.
Childhood is fun again — exciting, adventurous and chaotic. After listening to my mom talk about my youth and hearing the funny adventures of my co-workers, I miss my childhood. And the familiarity of my past makes me want to ride my bike down that old street in Glenwood with no shoes on my feet and no hands on the handlebars.
Even this week, while looking at old photos, I heard my mom whisper, “I wish you were little again.”
Knowing my mom, I know she would relive all the chaos again — even that incident with the plant — because she knew that one day it would be funny.
Jamie Parsell is Lifestyles editor of the Daily Telegraph. Contact her at jparsell@bdtonline.com