Growing up, a sense of security can be gained from sameness. I grew up very safe but I sure didn’t get my security from sameness.
These things I could count on:
- that my parents loved each other
- mom would be gone every Wednesday, playing poker
- there would be three meals a day
My mom changed our house around a million different ways. I don’t mean just common old rearranging. She moved pots, pans, dishes, foodstuff, stoves, refrigerators, cupboards, walls, bedrooms, doors, windows and even the bathtub.
Twice a year Dad would be away for a weekend. Mom planned for weeks in advance for these opportunities. These were the times she would undertake a major remodeling project. Dad would drive out of the yard; we would wave good-by to him and as soon as he turned the corner we all had hammers in our hands, tearing out walls.
One time Mom was removing the wall between the living room and the downstairs bedroom. All went well until we took the two-by-fours out and the ceiling started to cave. It appeared that the upstairs bedrooms were going to fall into the living room. Mom called for reinforcements; a friend of the family came with jacks and a beam.
With the new large living room, there was a big closet (inaccessible), a linen cupboard (wasted space) and a hallway that went to nowhere. Dad, totally unaware, went off for the weekend. Out came the hammers and saws. This time she put a support beam up herself, reinforced the floor of the former closet and moved the tub across the room.
I can’t remember how many different places the stove and refrigerator were moved within our kitchen. First all the appliances would be in the breakfast nook, and the table would be in the center of the kitchen, then the washer and dryer would be in the nook, then the buffet and TV. Sometimes my brother, sisters and I would have to help push, pull, carry, drag and shove. Other times we would come home and things would magically be changed.
Mom and Dad retired and moved to a smaller house. That poor little house! New cupboards, new vanity, microwave by the stove, then by the fridge, then on the new rolling cupboard. The bedroom sets from the two bedrooms have traveled the stairs several times. The cedar chest, recliner, bookcase and rocker make a regular rotation up and down the stairs. Mom is 84 and Dad 92, either she can still magically move furniture or Dad shoves while she drags.
If life is about change then I grew up very well prepared. Have I ever wished that my mom were like other moms? Would I like to have the drinking glasses in the same cupboard every time I go home? No and no. Mom is unchanging in her capacity to change. I loved my childhood. I strive to be like her. If only I were so talented.
I called home the other day, Mom said she would sure like to do some major remodeling in the bedroom. But Dad wouldn’t go away for the weekend.
