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This Friday will be my mom’s birthday and keeping up with the adage that you never ask a woman’s age or weight, I am not going to reveal her age.
As I started writing this column, I thought back over the years growing up and having Mom at home. First and foremost, my mother always was there to lend a helping hand to not only my brother and I, but also to Dad. They are both very hard workers.
Five days a week while we attended school, Mom would wake up and have breakfast on the table by 6 a.m. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast or muffins, with milk and orange juice. The smell of breakfast wafted back into the bedroom where we were sleeping.
When Greg and I were very young, Mom made sure we had our clothes laid out the night before school.
As we headed out the door, Mom walked us down to the end of the sidewalk making sure that we got on the school bus all right. As we found a seat, I remember looking outside of the window, where Mom would be waving to us.
After a long day of school, the bus would pull up to the bus stop, where Mom would be waiting to walk us home. Mom would always make sure that if we had homework, that it came first prior to going outside and playing when the weather was nice or watching TV. Between 5:30 and 6 p.m. — like clockwork — Mom would have dinner for Greg, me, Dad and herself. After spending time with both of my parents, it was time for bed. Mom would watch the late evening news, waiting to see what the weather was for the following day, and then she would head to bed. The only day that Mom slept in was on Saturday. On that day, we would make Mom breakfast in bed — cinnamon rolls from a Neosho doughnut place, which were picked up on Friday.
Fast forward a little bit to one of the most memorable vacations in 1985. My family had gone with some of our friends on a skiing trip to Colorado. We had never been skiing, but with gloves, coats, snow bibs and goggles, we got on the slopes. Now, for the first day, we were on the “bunny” slopes, basically very, very small hills and pretty flat areas. Mom and I mastered that. It was when we all went to the green, blue and black slopes that we had a problem. First off, our skis got stuck coming off of the lift, and then Mom and I had trouble stopping while going down one of the slopes. So what to do? We had already rented our skis for the week.
This Friday will be my mom’s birthday and keeping up with the adage that you never ask a woman’s age or weight, I am not going to reveal her age.
As I started writing this column, I thought back over the years growing up and having Mom at home. First and foremost, my mother always was there to lend a helping hand to not only my brother and I, but also to Dad. They are both very hard workers.
Five days a week while we attended school, Mom would wake up and have breakfast on the table by 6 a.m. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast or muffins, with milk and orange juice. The smell of breakfast wafted back into the bedroom where we were sleeping.
When Greg and I were very young, Mom made sure we had our clothes laid out the night before school.
As we headed out the door, Mom walked us down to the end of the sidewalk making sure that we got on the school bus all right. As we found a seat, I remember looking outside of the window, where Mom would be waving to us.
After a long day of school, the bus would pull up to the bus stop, where Mom would be waiting to walk us home. Mom would always make sure that if we had homework, that it came first prior to going outside and playing when the weather was nice or watching TV. Between 5:30 and 6 p.m. — like clockwork — Mom would have dinner for Greg, me, Dad and herself. After spending time with both of my parents, it was time for bed. Mom would watch the late evening news, waiting to see what the weather was for the following day, and then she would head to bed. The only day that Mom slept in was on Saturday. On that day, we would make Mom breakfast in bed — cinnamon rolls from a Neosho doughnut place, which were picked up on Friday.
Fast forward a little bit to one of the most memorable vacations in 1985. My family had gone with some of our friends on a skiing trip to Colorado. We had never been skiing, but with gloves, coats, snow bibs and goggles, we got on the slopes. Now, for the first day, we were on the “bunny” slopes, basically very, very small hills and pretty flat areas. Mom and I mastered that. It was when we all went to the green, blue and black slopes that we had a problem. First off, our skis got stuck coming off of the lift, and then Mom and I had trouble stopping while going down one of the slopes. So what to do? We had already rented our skis for the week.
The solution was this: we went on the bunny slopes in the morning, and in the afternoon while Dad and Greg and the rest of the crew went on the larger slopes, Mom and I went shopping. It was a great time to get together and talk. I will never forget it.
There are other times in my life that Mom has been there. She was there when I graduated high school, then Crowder College and then MSSU. Mom was always a phone call away when I needed advice and guidance.
We are taking Mom out Friday for her birthday and my wish is that she enjoys it to the fullest.
Words can’t express how much I care for my Mom. The best words that I can say, is I love you. I hope that you have a wonderful birthday and many, many more to come.
Todd G. Higdon is a staff writer and writes a weekly column for the Neosho Daily News. He can be reached at tghigdon@neoshodailynews.com
