Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Well, it’s colorful.

My mother is a saint. Seriously, if she were Catholic and dead (and I’m grateful she is neither) she would have achieved Sainthood. This is not only because she puts up with all my fiery nonsense but because she is the Queen of the Golden Rule. She never says an unkind thing about anything or anyone except Bill Clinton, she really hated him. She is slow to anger and quick to forgive. She smiles, she laughs, she feeds, she helps, she cares, she dances, she loves and she is way smart. She is the best and I certainly don’t come anywhere near her outstanding character but at least I have an excellent benchmark and I get to claim her.

Anyway, although my mother is very kind she also has very strong opinions and she is not afraid to make them known when need be. Don’t you dare try to sneak any extra charges on her bill. However, with her children, she often chooses the kindly ambiguous approach which I’m certain is intended to avoid bursting our delicate bubbles.

Example: in 3rd grade I picked out my own outfit for class photo day. I proudly selected a white sweatshirt with neon flowers, bright teal sweatpants and 4 assorted neon colored socks that I carefully stacked on top of each other. In my defense I totally matched and it was the 80’s. I came out of my room and my mom smiled, titled her head and said, “Well…it’s certainly colorful”. I will never forget those words and I will never throw out that photo. I wish I still had that sweatshirt.

Over time it has become very easy to tell when mom doesn't totally agree with our choices but nevertheless still stands close by as a great support. Over the Christmas break my brother, as he often does, went through a fierce ‘build things’ spurt. He crafted this beautiful, custom-made entertainment center equipped with under-glow lighting for my mom. It’s absolutely brilliant. In addition, he felt that in order to properly display such a perfect piece of carpentry the accent wall must be repainted. He waited for my mom to head to work and then he and my other brothers ‘garage mixed’ a custom paint color to slap on the wall in record speed. At this point keep in mind that my brothers are all very color blind. One of them still has a purple, and I mean purple comforter on his bed. Hilarious story for another time. Anyway, I stopped by my mom’s house later in the evening and was immediately accosted by a bright peacock blue living room. Now, I love the actual color, in fact I painted my room a very similar color before but, to say the very least, it simple will not do in my mother’s living room with a forest green couch and rich, royal toned curtains.

“Whoa,” I immediately exclaim, “my eyes, my eyes!”
My mother emerges from the back room, “So, you noticed?”
“Uh yeah,” again I exclaim in a very concerned shrill, “did you see it?”
With a sweet smile and a slight head tilt she gently sighs, “Yes and well...it’s colorful.”
She joyfully follows with, “the boys are so proud.”
I could not contain my laughter as all my brothers lined up with very proud grins and blue paint all over the place.

It’s true, the boys were so very proud and they really didn't know that this combination was 6 times worse than my 3rd grade outfit. Even after I have strongly suggested about 10 better shades the boys should paint the wall, it remains a bursting brilliant blue to this day. Turns out, it doesn't matter to my mom, her boys painted that wall and she loves it. It is, after all, colorful.