Why I Adore My Mom: Reason 689
I could fill a hundred books with reasons why I adore this woman. Those close to me know that I bow down at the altar of Ellen Padden.
But for today. I’ll just give you one reason.
Growing up, we had this plastic Pyrex-like pitcher (alliteration for the day!) that we called “the throw up bucket”. When anyone was sick, the trusty throw up bucket was close by.
It sort of looked like this:
Except ours was clear plastic and had measuring tics in red on the side and was from the 70s. If I were at my mom’s right now, I could take a picture of it, as she still has it and uses it to water plants. When we’re all together you can still hear a kid randomly see it and say “Aw, the throw up bucket!”
Sometimes mom would use it for other things and we would all freak out screaming ‘EWWWWW! You can’t use it for other things!! It’s the throw up bucket!!” To which mom would say “Don’t be silly. Of course I washed it!”
Anyway, about 5 years ago, my mom gave each kid and their family a set of fantastic stacking bowls for Christmas with the following poem attached:
Ode to the Throw Up Bowl
Because I got so much razzing about “the throw up bowl”
I retired it to water plants, although it hurt my soul.
I had seen so many traumas and was helpful in times of need.
I loved its sturdy roundness and it brought back memories.
I marched to the call of the future because I heard the beck and call
Of wonderful Williams and Sonoma, the culinary savior of us all.
I purchased clean stacking bowls of varying colored hue,
And left the store knowing that I had started something new.
Hence you can use these bowls to fulfill your every wish.
They will come in handy when you want to create a dish.
You now have three sizes as opposed to only one.
You can have popcorn, pasta or pilaf, what culinary fun!
But when you are in dire need and the light is very, very dim
You’ll know where the bowls are in your very own kitchen.
Mark one for that special purpose and you will be prepared
But be sure to tell your mom who saw the need and cared.
Love always, Mom
I kept this poem and taped it to the inside of my kitchen cabinet so I see it every day.
Last night, while putting dishes away, I saw it and crawled up on the counter to read it again.
No matter how many times I read it, I always cry at the end. For a multitude of reasons I suppose, but mostly because I picture her typing out this darling poem, mounting it on thick green paper, and giving it to us kids with all of the love in her heart.
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