My mom, the book worm.

I was reading a blog post recently about the parenting dilemma of one's desire to read (i.e. have computer time) v. give our kid(s) attention. I started thinking about how much time I spend reading, mostly at the computer, though sometimes a physical book. I've decided to not beat myself up too much for all the reading I do while Olivia plays or relaxes with a movie because I remember how much my own mother would read and I do not have negative feelings about this. I remember our house always having such a relaxing vibe with her there reading. She was a total book worm and loved getting lost in books, much the same way that I get lost in my reading as an adult. So maybe I'm getting lost in text on a screen! :-) My mother always had a comfy chair that she'd read in. In my early years, she had this wooden rocking chair where she'd sit, wearing her fuzzy, light-teal, terry-cloth robe. When she relaxed in the rocking chair, the fuzzy cloth of her robe would poke through all holes in the back of the chair. (Think 1970s style furniture...). From behind the rocking chair, each circular hole of teal robe looked like fuzzy buttons, which needed to be pushed by my little fingers. And so I did. I do not remember my mom's reaction, I just remember how tempting the fuzzy buttons were. Either way, this memory of her serves as a reminder that a great parent need not be on the floor playing with her child 24/7 to be a nourishing, wonderful parent. Every parent needs some self time and if that entails reading, your kids will be happier if you are happy and relaxed. At least, that's how I feel about the time she took to read.

 Post Script...

After writing down my memory, I decided that the only thing that could make this post more perfect is if I could actually locate a photo of my mom.... in her old rocking chair.... wearing that teal robe. For anyone who knows little about my father: he saves/keeps everything. In fact, virtually every photograph in my family's possession has been digitized. And virtually every book our family has ever purchased has been kept. That would be why my parents' house has an entire "family room" that is wall-to-wall bookshelves. Book collections aside, I went on a mission to hunt down a photo like this and sure enough, my dad had a photo sent back to me via email within 24 hours. I couldn't make out the title of the book, but my dad was able to discern the title, author and the fact that it was clearly a book checked out from the public library since he knows it is not in our collection of books. I've never heard of this author, but I was intrigued.

My mom in the 80s, reading Leah and Lazar by Elizabeth Swados. Surely, I was moments away from perching behind her to poke fuzzy buttons.

The Laundromat

I originally told this story on my other blog in the summer of 2009. I realized that this story definitely belongs here on this blog! I've done some light editing to it to make it fit nicely here.

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I try to visit my mom so I feel spiritually closer to her. Mainly, I return to one of our stomping grounds or something I know she loved, even if it's not in Arizona.. When I am in Arizona, I like to reminisce about the places we'd frequent, especially when I was a teenager and we'd go on quite a few mom-daughter dates - getting ice cream or lunch out somewhere. Many of these establishments have closed down in the past 5 years, a sad state of affairs and a sign of the economic downturn that hit the Phoenix area *very* hard.

Once place from my childhood that I have many memories of being with my mom that is *still* open with, hopefully, no signs of closing any day soon is the Country Club Laundromat, over on Southern and Extension in Mesa.

(In August 2009, when we lived in Chandler but were about to move to CA), we've had piles of laundry... well, piling up and it got to the point
that no matter how many loads I did at home, I couldn't keep up with it. So, I reconciled that I needed lots 'n lots of machines to do the job all at once. Naturally, I took the clothes to the one coin op I'm familiar with, which happens to be the one my mom and I visited when the washer broke or when we returned from a family vacation with tons of laundry or when it was raining too much outside to hang them on the lines. (We never owned a dryer.)

The laundromat had the best vending machines -- always fully stocked and the sodas were always chilled to the max. As a child, I would entertain myself by pushing and pulling all the coin gadgets, opening and closing front-loading dryer doors, and rolling those awesome baskets around the smooth, shiny floors. My mom would always equip me with quarters to get a fun treat from the machines and she would relax on the park-bench style chair, most likely reader a romance novel.  ;-)

That same exact laundromat doesn't disappoint. It's clean, cool, and the vending machines still offer the most chilled sodas you could ask for. I got myself a Coke, except, I can't manage to drink more than 1/4 of it, so it was mostly for nostalgiac purposes. The front windows are still immaculate and the lettering painted across them is still the same retro font from the 80s.

So, even though I had mountains of laundry to clean, I savored the calmness and relished in the simple memories. It seems to be the simplest things, like visiting the laundromat, that I remember most about my time with my mom.