A Mother Knows

Tribute to Mike White and His Mother, Stephannie White

A Sad Story from South Korea

Life is not always easy; mine has been a little tough lately, but that pales in comparison to what some people I know have been through.

In 2008, my friend Stephannie White’s son died in a public sauna in South Korea. The facts surrounding his death are hazy, mainly due to a language barrier and the sauna owners and employees who were eager to hide any negligence they might have had in the death of Mike White.
I do not know exactly how he died. I do strongly believe that his death did not get the thorough investigation that it deserved. Mike White was not Korean, nor was his mother, and she did not speak enough Korean to work with the officials investigating his death without the aid of a translator.

Stephannie White tried to rally the international community for the cause of investigating the death of her son and for her troubles, had to pay for a Korean autopsy herself.

No one had a bad word to say about Mike White. He died at the age of 14, but had spent so much of his life with adults that he seemed much older and wiser beyond his years. The fact that he led a great life and experienced more than most did in his brief time does not excuse the horrible injustice of his early death because he would have accomplished so much more had he been alive.

The hardships that Stephannie White faced after her son’s death are things that a mother should never have to go through. Soon after Mike White’s death, I left South Korea for the United States, and lost close touch with Stephannie, but never forgot about her or her son’s death.

Had Mike lived, he would have had the experience of an international education and the love of a mother who wanted to protect him from the dangers of small-town America. Again, the hard lessons that she faced and faces every day that she gets out of bed are lessons that no one should have to endure: that life is cruel, that life robs you of what is most precious, and that even the most beautiful and special people can lose their lives.

I’m writing this truthfully late because it was my first time to experience the death of someone so young. I knew him well enough to know that he was a gifted and creative individual who would go far in life; and well enough to know that his sense of humor and love for life would gain him admittance where ever he would choose to go.

A Mother Knows How to Cook Best

It’s funny, I consider myself a good cook but, when it comes to making my favorite dishes my mom used to make, I come no where close. I am not sure if it is because someone else cooks it or just because it is mom, only mothers know how to cook it best.

From the simplest of dishes to the more sophisticated, I have done them all. They were actually very tasty too! Something as simple as homemade spaghetti sauce or brown gravy like mom used to make for us seems next to impossible. Guest can come over for supper and love what I cook and for some reason, it still doesn’t taste like moms. Why? Does she spray her perfume in it? I would like to think that I have watched her enough times to know exactly what goes into the dish, shucks, she has even taught me step by step. I often wonder what my problem is?!?

I chuckle as I write this because, as a mother myself, I know this all too well. I still call my mother to fix those special and certain things on occasion. I also know the flip side of this coin too. I am married and often wonder what I am doing wrong when my husband only wants his mother’s certain dishes. It’s just funny how that works. Logically speaking, I understand why he does; I just want to be as good as she. J

What do you think it is that makes our mother’s dishes taste so different? I mean, I even buy the exact same brands and ingredients that she uses. Maybe it is the smells of her house, her perfume and the type of dish soap that she uses, all combined into one. I just don’t get it.

There is one thing for sure that I do understand and that is a mother knows how to cook it best.

MIL Envy

Why does everyone have such a fabulous MIL relationship…but me?

I feel like whining. A lot. My mother tells me not to be jealous, but I told her I can’t help it. It’s in my nature as a Scorpio to be jealous.

Both of my sisters have amazing mother-in-laws who love them to pieces. One isn’t even married yet and her boyfriend’s mother dotes on her constantly, from Christmastime to trips, outings to Scentsy parties. They hang out like they are pals. My sister who is married is just about BFFs with her MIL. They do everything together, from weekly TV watching dates to shopping and eating out together. Both of these two do this without their menfolk present, while I couldn’t imagine being in the same room with my MIL without my husband present.

It’s not like I didn’t know that we wouldn’t get along when we got married; we have never gotten along. We never wanted the same things, really. My husband and I have been together since junior high, the year my MIL tried to dress me up in one of her own dresses (which did not fit, not to mention resulted in a pretty embarrassing experience altogether; I have always hated trying on clothes and here she was, trying to make me into her own doll. She also organized a limousine ride for our first dance—her father owned the company—which was casual, and everyone made fun of us. I also happened to hate limos (I had told my boyfriend this, but apparently the message hadn’t been relayed) after a bad experience with one as a child.

That was only the beginning, though; those things are incidents that one can move past. Over the years, she resented me taking her son, sometimes even calling me “that little bitch” in the background over the telephone. Who calls a twelve year old “that little bitch”? It’s something that’s hard to get over, for sure. And despite some recent bonding episodes—the birth of my daughter, the sharing of what it’s like to shop in plus size sections with little to choose from—I just can’t bridge that gap between us. I feel extremely uncomfortable around her—as well as her husband, though for different reasons—and every time she looks at me, I feel like a bug, like her hate is just seeping into my skull. Of course, my husband tells me that’s just the way she looks at people.

I once entertained the idea that we could hang out sometime when we were older, but now, fifteen years later, I know that’s likely not going to happen. We are quite different, and I don’t think she’s ever really forgiven me for stealing her son away (does any mother?). The fact that I fell hard for her son and wanted to spend every living breathing moment with him from age twelve on should be a compliment, right? And isn’t that any teenage girl, anyway?

So I just need to get over my envy. I have lots of wonderful women in my life whom I spend time with (including my sister’s MIL, actually), as well as an amazing mother (who reminded me of this fact when I complained to her about it). “You can’t have both,” she told me. “You did!” I reminded her. “And both of my sisters do!” She just laughed, which I suppose is the best response. I should do the same—and enjoy what I do have.

Mom has Eyes in the Back of Her Head!

While to some, it may be considered taking complete advantage of your child but, I remember being terrified believing when my mom told me she had eyes in the back of her head. At my tender young age, I believed this because she caught me doing any and everything; even if I was no where that she could possibly see. It was just amazing. I thought my mom was a super hero of sorts.

I chuckle to this day, when in the car with my little ones and I catch them doing something. I do not budge, I simply correct them. To see their little faces in that rearview mirror is priceless. They whisper to each other, “how did she know?”, I politely intrude and say, “didn’t you know, I have eyes in the back of my head, all moms do!”. To then watch them closely examine my head from the back seat in search of this extra pair of eyes is hilarious!

Sometimes, as a parent, you must recycle many of the sayings that your very own parents used on you. It is funny when it happens because you are able to relate to both your mom and your own children, when doing so. You remember the thoughts you had when hearing these sayings, while you look at the facial expressions of your own children. You then find yourself in the position of your mother and think about hard she must have tried to keep a straight face, all those years ago.

Sundays With Mom

Next month I approach the bench mark of turning thirty years old . I have never loved or respected my mom more than I have in the past year or two. Mother always lets you come back home when you have failed, with welcome open arms. Now as I have taken off and ventured into starting my own family, I am grateful that mom is here. She helped me plan our wedding in August, she kept me calm, and took on my husband as a son. (Who I think she now enjoys more than me! ha!) She always makes sure I have everything I need, and even though she is just 20 minutes away, I count on her to tell me at least twice a week that she misses me.

We try to spend at least 2 Sundays a month with mom, and I try and get there at least once a week myself. I can't believe she will be turning 60 this year! She sure doesn't look it, so I will knock on wood and hope that I at least got the good skin genes from her. She still works full time, she has all the creativity that I never do, and when i am sick she is usually the first one to whip up a batch of chicken noodle soup.

This weekend, we made cheesecake together, ordered some stuff for our houses online, and talked about a vacation. There is nothing ground breaking going on here, just spending time with someone you love. I wish I knew 20 years ago what I knew now, and when I grew up I wish I had known that she was always going to be right! Little did I know I would one day find myself doing/saying all the things that used to drive me nuts about my mom.

Here I am, the apple does not fall far from the tree, but mother truly knows best. Sunday is now my favorite day of the week!

The Sound of Genuine Laughter

"Today, so many kids are sarcastic and stuck on being grown up"

A mother knows the sound of genuine laughter. As silly as our children think we are or as slick as they think they are, a mother knows the difference in many things. Too often, our children grow up and you are left pondering the thoughts of “what just happened?”. You are left wondering was that laugh, cry and/or outburst genuine.

When our children are in the toddler stages of life, it is so easy to tell when you child is happy, sad, mad, etc. They wear their little hearts on their sleeves. As they get older, they learn to restrict us from their emotions; after all, we are not cool anymore! As they enter their teenage and impressionable years, it is hard to tell if they are coming or going. When is the last time you heard that sweet laughter you used to hear when your teenager was younger?

Today, so many kids are sarcastic and stuck on being grown up and that leaves it hard to tell whether they are laughing, whining or talking back; its just hard to keep up! While we love our children, we miss the genuine laughter we had together when they were younger. As slick as our children think they are, their mothers know when they hear genuine laughter and when something truly makes them happy. If we see them sad, we make it our priority to find that laughter for them and lift their burdens.

Our kids will only know what it’s like to be us and understand how a mother knows everything; when they become a parent themselves. Something’s, only a mother knows.

What All That Jibber Jabber Means

As mothers, we have to be on our toes at all times with our little ones. This is especially true in regards to communicating with the little darlings. As precious as they are, deciphering all the jibber jabber can be a job all in itself.

We all can’t wait for them to get bigger so, we can talk and laugh with them. They start out with the cute words and then move on to what we believe are sentences. We start to get a clear understanding of what all that jibber jabber is supposed to mean. My daughter is three and for the most part, speaks pretty clearly BUT, there are those few alpha’s that she can not get right. It’s too cute, really! If she sees a happy face, it’s mommy look at that “Happy Pace!” As her mom, I know what she means though.

It is great when, you are in public and our little ones want to jibber jabber and at ninety miles an hour. They want to communicate like mommy does with other people. People generally do their best to keep up with your little ones, even if they have not one clue what type of conversation they are really having. Often times, they may turn to you to decipher those words, as you understand each and every one of them. You’re her mother; you know what it is she is trying to say. You’ve had these conversations over and over with her.

The more you communicate with your child in a non-childish (baby talk) fashion, the better they will learn to pronounce many different words. Encourage your child to learn by helping them understand the correct way to pronounce words. They are completely healthy and will most likely grow out of this as they get older. It’s just a perk of being a preschooler and irresistibly cute! Only a mother can truly understand the importance of all that jibber jabber and appreciate it.

A Real Cry

Having a child means that you learn each and every noise, movement and action taken by your little one and believe me there are a bunch of them. As sweet and innocent as our little ones are, they sure know how to play with our emotions. As the mother of one, three year old little girl; I was a nervous wreck as a new parent. Any little whimper or squirm, I was all over it. I wasn’t going to let her want for anything, I would be there the second she needed me.

Well, as she got older, she caught on to that and started using it against me. She will whine in the drop of a dime, thinking she will get what she wants and quickly. Generally, that would be the case but not anymore. I’ve caught on to her game!! I’ve had to learn which cry was real. I tell her no and she cries; I know she isn’t hurting but merely mad so, I don’t react. I can tell when there is some what of a high pitch in her cry that something is really wrong with her. These times are when I FLY to see what is wrong with my baby.

We all know our children but we are left to learn when they are really in need of our assistance and when they just aren’t getting their way. This lesson is never fun nor easy to learn and often makes us feel down right miserable. As parents, we just need to stick to our guns and not be over bearing. Learn your child’s real cry and know when they need you to come running.

Sounds of Silence

I am the mother of two boys. They are grown now and on their own. I have that silence is still just as telling now as when they were young.

When my boys were young and entertaining themselves while I did house work or some other task that needed to be done I could always tell what they were up to by the noise that they made. Most mothers will admit to using this method of observation on more than one occasion. It was when they stopped making noise that I had to stop what I was doing to go see what they were into or up to. Silence in the past resulted in crayons on the wall, grilled cheese sandwich in the VCR, or the older child trying to convince the younger child that tying a cape on and jumping out the second story windows would really make him Superman. Just for the record, the youngest wanted proof before jumping out the window, the older wasn’t willing to provide it and no children were harmed by taking a leap of faith.

As adults the silences are shorter but a lot louder than use to be. Nowadays, they are not in place to hide something that they shouldn’t be doing but instead to avoid telling me something they should. I was never an overbearing mother. I was one who taught my children independence at an early age and encouraged individual thought, no matter how much I may have disagreed with the thought. My oldest son got married and waited to tell me about until after the fact.

The conversation went something like this:

Son: Hi, Mom. What’s up?

Me: Just calling to see if you’re still alive. How’d leave go?

Son: (pause) Fine.

Me: Did you go anywhere?

Son: Yeah. I went out to Callie.

Me: What did you do?

Son: (longer pause) Had fun.

Me: You don’t sound convinced.

Son: (even longer pause) You remember this girl I went to first grade with?

Me: Which girl? You went to school with a lot of girls.

Son: X_____.

Me: Vaguely, maybe. Why?

Son: (bigger pause)

Me: You still there?

Son: Yeah, I’m here.

Me: And so? What about her?

Son: (even bigger pause) I kinda married her.

Me: Okaaaay. Why?

Son: (the biggest pause yet) Hey, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll call you later and tell you everything. (click)

It was a few weeks later when he needed some advice that I finally got the whole story. The story is what it is and it doesn’t change the fact that he got married and remains so. The conversation is indicative of how silence still represents something a little off when it comes to your children at any age. Silence is just easier to decipher when they’re little.