As a computer programmer there are certain times when one will establish a constant when writing code. A constant is a value of any type that can never change, and specifies the parameters that remain constant in a function.
My life is the function and my mom is my constant.
In my hectic, harried life no longer is there time for 2 hour and $200 hair appointments where I sit in a salon and sip flavored coffee leisurely thumbing through tabloid mags. Now I sit at my kitchen table while my mother lovingly yanks my hair through a frosting cap as my Mini-Monkey sits on my lap reading books. One hour and $8 later I look fantastic and never have to leave my sweatpants.
I love to watch my mom's hands. I can see them in my minds eye. Ringing out the dishrag, having just finished wiping down plates, her hands reddish from the incredibly hot water she always chooses to use. Her slender fingers are long and adorned only by her simple, classic wedding jewelry.
I see her bathing each of my babies, in her stainless steel kitchen sink. Gently, lovingly pouring water over their tiny bellies. Cooing to them and singing a song. "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck..."
I see her adding water to the teapot, preparing a fresh cup for each of us. Motioning me to sit at the table and unload my burden. Listening openly and ready to offer guidance, my mother is big on solutions. The kitchen table in her house is not a place to wallow in your sorrows but rather a drawing board to formulate plans to change the circumstances of the situation.
I can feel the nubby softness of her melon colored fleece shirt, the one that she wore to my house when the Monster Monkey was only 5 days old. I was terrified of motherhood and so she came, in her melon colored shirt. She came early in the morning and made me coffee, Snickerdoodle flavor. The smell of the coffee mixed with the smell of her and when I hugged her I never wanted to let go. She came almost everyday. She stayed with me until I wasn't quite so scared.
She was my life line, still is.
I called her this morning and said, "I need help."
At 5:30 PM, my mom will come to my house and help me. She will help me organize my closet, she will listen to me rant and rave about my lack of waistline and excessively saggy bustline. She will make her suggestions even though I will ignore most. She will come armed with trash bags and fresh coffee. She will help me sift through the good and forget the rest, this is her specialty.
My mom is my contsant, she is constantly amazing.