There is only a few days left to enter The Yazoo Herald’s Supermom Competition. And I hope you take this opportunity to share with the world what makes your mother so very special.
Keep in mind, I will not be entering my own mother in the contest. But I decided to dedicate my column space instead to her.
I could easily say she is a Supermom because she let me lick the cookie dough off the spoon. She took me to see all kinds of wonders including the mountains or the sprawling deserts. She told me she loved me daily. And she kept me clean and my belly full.
But that is not what made my Momma the Supermom that she was and is to this day.
Momma let me explore the world in my own way. She let me find myself and the tiny personality inside of me. She never shied away from my love for horror movies, Alfred Hitchcock or Vincent Price. She let me put that love out in the open, in the front and center.
She embraced my quirkiness as a child. She was my only audience member when I did a powerful re-creation of Frankenstein’s monster at home in the living room. She let me go all out when it came time for Halloween costumes and my desire to be the “scariest” kid on the block.
She took me to special movie viewings of the old Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi’s classic films.
I never felt odd or different because Momma allowed me to feel safe. And I try to pass that own to my own children to this day, especially our oldest son James who is falling in my footsteps.
Momma instilled in me the value of a healthy mind and powerful wit. Sure, a pretty face and pageant-like waves can go far in life. But not far enough.
She constantly tested me with the drive to learn more, explore deeper and hunt for anything that could expand my knowledge. As a single mother, she would roll coins to buy me a mountain of books from hole-in-the-wall bookstores.
At night, regardless of how tired she was from the double-shift she just worked, she would read those books to me. And she would encourage me to read them back to her, stumbling over words I didn’t know. She would teach me those words, and to this day I might can tell you what how word is spelled but perhaps can’t pronounce it correctly. It a symptom of always having my nose in a book.
Momma taught me that wisdom is more important than any make-up tip or box of hair dye on the shelf. Looks come and go, but your brain is something that will really blow other people away.
Momma showed me through her own actions the importance of hard work and doing a job almost perfect. There are no times for excuses or people to blame.
Momma was dealt a tough hand, no doubt. Her picket fence, American Dream was stripped away when her husband abandoned her and her two-week-old daughter.
But she never complained. She never looked for someone to blame. She never chased my father down for money or time.
She dusted herself off and went to work to provide me with a life. It may have been a life of apartmental rentals, bologna sandwiches, hand-me-down clothes and bills to pay.
But that suited me just fine. I had a roof over my head, food on my plate, friends down my block, good grades at school and house pets as siblings.
And Momma did it all on a single-parent paycheck.
Momma would later make better money, and things got a whole lot better. But what we may have lacked in material things, we had in experiences.
That is what makes my Momma a supermom. She supported my individualism, made me feel safe, chiseled away at my thirst for knowledge and taught me that hard work and love can pull you up.
She is a supermom, and she’s all mine.
