Last week I posted a celebration about my mom, Olivia, and the wonderful news about my entry in this year’s Chicken Soup For the Soul “Thanks Mom” edition. I invited you all to share with me stories about your own heroic hottie, and promised 3 blessed winners a copy of the book. Congratulations to Ashley Hammen, Tonya Mann, and Mimi Uong for being such women of gratitude as the result of such incredible, stand out women. I want you to know that I am praying every year from this day forward that you’re mothers feel stronger, healthier, and more in love with life than the years before. Thank you so much for sharing your stories, enjoy your books I’ll be sending out, and send my xO’s to your Mom’s.
Happy Mother’s Day out there everyone.
Why I Heart My Mama!!
So as I was reading your blog this am, thinking about the next episode of HDIL, I felt inspired
by the beautiful story you shared about your mom. I decided I would respond to you, if not to
tell the world how blessed I am, to at least honor my mom in the way she deserves.
In my house, dysfunction is the function that keeps my family going. My parents were divorced
when I was 13 and I would love to say I was sad, but I really wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, they are
both lovely people, but if I had known them both in high school, I would have told them they were
nuts if they thought getting married was a good idea. They are both happily remarried at this point
and I have not only gained two wonderful new parents out of the deal, but seven more siblings…six of
which are older brothers-talk about capping off your dating life in high school. Just kidding….a little.
However, before I gained all of those new siblings, I spent my high school years very similar to Rory
Gilmore from Gilmore Girls. My mom moved into town following the separation and we began to renovate
a house to suit our family of four- my mom, my younger brother and sister, and myself. My mom had
quit her job of over 15 years and become a self-employed cleaning woman to ensure that someone
would always be at our school events, take us to social events, etc.
She worked her tush off, doing less then glamorous work to make sure that the three of us had the best
of all situation. I will never forget the day I walked into my high school boyfriends house and saw my mom
cleaning their windows. Some people, at this point, may have felt belittled, but I understood her well and I
was proud of her. I am still so proud of her.
Not only did my mom change her career to support us, but she detasseled corn (very laborious work
in the fields) to pay for our private school tuition. We were always allowed to be involved and she found
a way to make things work, even if she had to go without.
Although this story sounds laborious and hard, it was not without love. In fact, love is what fuels this story.
My mom worked hard because she had to, but she also worked hard, because she loved us and wanted
everything for us. She has truly taught me the value of hard work and the price a person truly pays for the dollar.
If you ask me today, where the most fabulous place I have ever lived was, I would not say New York City or near
the beach in Los Angeles. I would respond with the small house on Hudson Street in Storm Lake, Iowa. I would
tell you this, because my mom made that house a home and that home was full of love. We started from scratch
and built what we could, when we could afford to, but every project was special. The one thing we never had to worry
about building, was a relationship with each other, because truly, our mom taught us the value of family. She was
our rock and I know that all three of us credit her for the lives we now lead.
I currently work on a makeover show and every day I feel blessed to be able to help change the lives of deserving women.
And every day, I feel blessed that an amazing woman changed mine. Thank you Mom!
Ashley Hammen, Los Angeles CA
My Amazing, Amazing Mom
It’s hard to know where to start when talking about why my mom, Betty Mann, rocks … She IS my rock and always has been! She would tell you that all she ever wanted to be was a mother, and I’m so blessed that she got her wish. From sending us to school each day with a special message written on our napkin signed “wubbit, kissit, huggit – mom” to making every day special and every holiday unforgettable, she truly is a storybook mother. Listening to her talk about her own childhood and losing her mother as a teen, I’ve learned to cherish the time that we’ve been given together. Watching her success as a mother, a wife, a business woman, and a friend, I’ve learned about strength, compassion, drive, and acceptance. And from her actions I’ve experienced the true meaning of unconditional love.
Nearly a year ago, on May 19, 2009 I had an accident and ended up in the ER with a broken femur. I was scared and alone when they performed my first surgery, but when I woke up my parents were there and my mom never left my side. It was all so unexpected and surreal, as with any accident I suppose, but none of us knew what was in store or how long the healing process would take. I was in traction for about 24 hours followed by a second surgery where a metal rod was placed in my femur. I’ve never experienced such pain and such a quick loss of control. After one week in the hospital, it was time to return home, but I required round-the-clock care. It was either a live-in caregiver or I would have been transferred to a rehabilitation hospital indefinitely. Without hesitation my mom insisted that she would be there to care for me and nurse me back to health, and she was there every minute or every day for the next 3 1/2 MONTHS! I went from being a completely independent, successful thirty-something to literally needing help to move. I had to learn to walk all over again and as crazy as it may sound, to accept and rely on the help of others. I couldn’t drive … nothing. My world was turned upside down, but my ROCK was still there – beautiful and strong to support me in my darkest hours. When I would cry, she would hold me. When I would start to give up, she would help me to remember and talk through all of the blessings in my life. Each week she would celebrate my triumphs by reminding me of the strength I’d gained and pointing out the steps I was making toward a full recovery. And without ever having to speak a word, she would know when I was feeling guilty that she had to give up her summer, her time with my dad, time with friends, time on the golf course or in the garden, time doing what she loved. She would find me looking out the window or just sitting quietly, and she would put her hand on my shoulder or hug me and say, “There is no place else that I would rather be then right here with you. I love you.” She was always strong for me, unconditionally. But at night I could hear her crying and talking to God. She would thank Him for giving us strength and then she would beg him to take away my pain and give it all to her. It still makes me cry when I think about it. She was already giving me everything, but she was still praying to give me even more. In those moments I would pray as well, asking God to dry her tears, giving thanks for blessing me with the most exceptional mother, and for helping me to see that sometimes in the most difficult hours of our life we are given the greatest gifts if we’re open to receiving them. I know my mother is a gift and her unconditional love has given me the strength to move forward. Six weeks ago I had my final surgery, and she was by my side again. I am so thankful that I get to spend this day celebrating her and all that she has given to lift my life back up. I have no idea how I can ever show my true gratitude but maybe sharing this story is a good start.
- Tonya Mann, trendtracker and blogger of http://beautytipsy.blogspot.com/
My’s Mom
My mom isn’t a fashionista. She doesn’t tell jokes, nor does she like jokes. She never read to us bedtime story like my dad does. We never had the mother-daughter talks about sex, boys, and relationships. The only advice she had ever given on this subject matter was simply just don’t hang out with boys. The day my dad passed away, never once did she hug me and tell me to cry on her shoulders.
Yet every Mother’s Day I appreciate her, and I thank God that she’s my mom and not someone else’s. Her worn out shirt and jeans and torn up $5 Wal-Mart shoes that she wore all four seasons are so that my sister and I can dress the way we want to dress: our decent outfits for church, our glittery outfits for special occasions, and our warm furry jacket for winter and our flirty sun-dresses for summer. Not to mention our matching shoes, scarves, and accessories. Now if she were to have a decent income, she’d probably be able to dress as how she used to be before getting married: her floral short-sleeve, button-up shirt that tells the world her love for nature goes beautifully well with her brown flared out pants that emphasizes her legs; along with the sun straw hat that draws attention to her long, black curly hair. But her $10/hr part-time job took that ability to express herself away from her. She is not a fashionista, but her old closet was a timeless treasure.
She doesn’t make us laugh, but she ensures that we walk out the door every morning feeling happy the rest of our day. How? She makes the most delicious breakfast, lunch, and dinner ever. There’s always food when we wake up, when we get home from school and work, when we come home from crazies parties. She always invents new foods like applesauce spring rolls, Korean BBQ beef salad, Asian burritos and tacos…etc. Every time one of her new “invention” is put on the table, we always have a great laugh and have an awesome meal!
Her bedtime stories are usually news she read from the newspapers, heard from the neighbors, or obtained from neighbors’ gossips. Most of the time, they’re always something along the line of violence, murders and rapes. “Oh you need to know these to prepare yourself for the real world and for the worst possible scenarios,” she’d say. & that was probably why no hugs or shoulders were given when tragedies do come to our lives.
I’ve learned everything firsthand from life: from boys, to love to relationship. I’ve learned to pick up myself from ruins, but if it hasn’t been for the observations of my mom and the hardships she had to go through, I probably would’ve given up on myself a long time ago. You don’t know how hard it is for an immigrant, single mom to raise two daughters in a foreign land. Nobody’s there and nobody will be there–only you can take care of yourself. It’s a tough lesson to swallow and a tough lesson to teach. You are your own teacher because only you can use the knowledge you’ve gained to change yourself. My mother, a woman with not many words, has been my greatest mentor and the heroine in life.
- Mimi Uong, San Jose
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