Happy Mother’s Day, Mama

Mama, never one to hold back her opinion, was commenting on my latest columns.

“You know, they’re just not as interesting when you don’t write about me,” she commented casually. “You haven’t written much about me lately.”

“That’s because I haven’t had anything nice to say and you always said that if you can’t say anything nice about someone, don’t say anything at all.”

I wasn’t kidding.

She cut her eyes over at me sharply. “Well, some of that stuff you write ain’t that nice, if you ask me.”

“Trust me. If I had been writing about you lately, it would be a lot worse.”

She turned her nose up and signified that the matter was closed. No more discussion. But I’ve reconsidered. Since, after all, it is Mother’s Day, I will give her the gift she most wants – a column all about her.

It’s been tough the past few months since her triple bypass surgery. First of all, you have to be careful not to mention any dependency on Crisco oil or even remotely suggest that skim milk would be better for the ol’ arteries than whole milk. In fact, more than one nurse or nutritionist has gone down over that last one.

During her surgery and the few weeks that followed, Mama was the model patient. She was sweet and appreciative for everything that my sister and I did for her. She even seemed to realize all the work time we were giving up for her. That’s the kind of patient that you don’t mind nursing.

Then one day, without warning, it all changed. Cranky won’t even begin to describe it. It was worse than a starving rattlesnake crawling through the heat-stricken desert.

She went from being funny mean to being just plain mean.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked her one day. “You’re so mean lately.”

“I know I am,” she replied.

Now, that stopped me right there. Not only had Mama turned cranky, she had turned reasonable. Before the surgery, she would have disputed it and claimed that we were the aggravating ones, not her.

“You know you’re mean?” I asked incredulously.

“I’m not myself since I had that surgery and looks like to me, y’all could take that into consideration.”

“Consider it considered,” I replied. “Now, could you please quit being so cranky?”

Mama might have turned reasonable with her surgery, but she hadn’t turned cooperative. She continued to be cranky. So, during a check-up, I asked Dr. Corn about it. In front of her. And I gave explicit examples. Like a child who knows she’s been naughty, she listened quietly and contritely.

“It’s normal,” he said. “She’s been through a tough ordeal so it’ll take some time for everything to straighten out and her personality to return.”

“Well, in the meantime, could you give her some pills for it?” I’ve come to learn that the medical field has pills for everything so surely there’s some kind of medication for orneriness.

He shook his head. “It just needs to wear itself out,” replied the doctor whom I formerly loved. “She’ll be fine in a few months. Wait and see.”

A few months! I could have a nervous break-down by then. Then, I would be the one needing pills.

The doctor was right, though. She’s getting better and less cranky every day. Soon, I’ll probably be back to writing about her.

Meanwhile, Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. Despite the crankiness, I’m glad you made it through your surgery so well. Cranky or not, it just wouldn’t be Mother’s Day without you.