When I was 9 she made a candlelight dinner for myself and a friend who was spending the night. She set a formal table, served us on the fancy china and lit candles. We felt so grown up and special. :-)

My mom always gave us a half stick of Juicy Fruit or Wrigley’s gum. It drove me and my sister crazy, but it’s one of our fondest memories now. We make a point to wave whole sticks of gum at her befoer we start chewing.

@Trillian Haha same here. My moms purse always smelled like Doubemint gum. lol

Reading me my favorite book, Stone Soup, in a rocking chair in my bedroom at the house I grew up in (now my dad’s). I’m maybe….6 or 7.

I come from a big family and Saturday was laundry day. My mother insisted that new fangled washers did not get the clothes clean enough so my family used an old fashioned wringer washing machine and hung the clothes on a line outside to dry. The day always began with the whole family pitching in but by the end it was just down to Mom and me taking the cloths off the line and folding them. I loved spending that time alone; just my mom and me. Like @Bellatrix, I lost my mom when I was very young, but the memory of those Saturday laundry days will always stay with me.

My mom had breast cancer a long time ago – when the diagnosis was effectively a death sentence. I was about 12. One day, before the radical mastectomy, she called me into her room and put my hand on the lump. She wanted me to feel it and learn how to identify the mass so when I had a girlfriend or wife of my own I would be able to spot it before it was too late.
That was 45+ years ago and I can still remember every detail.
Thanks, Mom! You taught me well.

I was bringing a girlfriend to meet my mom for the first time. We get to our apartment and
my mom was smoking a joint. We forgot to knock, I just unlocked it and walked in.

@Blackberry Did you join her? lol

My mother was a dancer in the movies in 1932–1933. Often she would show us how to tap dance and do the “shuffle-off-to-Buffalo” in the downstairs hall.

Before I was married, in the dark ages, she took me to the gynecologist’s and had me fitted for a diaphragm, available only with a prescription. Then we stopped at a pharmacy and bought a rubber bag and the tubes and stems used for douching. (I did say this was a long time ago.)

She sat me on the toilet seat and then got into the bathtub, fully clothed and mimed how to to use the douche. We were able to laugh, how I cannot now imagine.

@Michael_Huntington No, I did a lot later, though.

I was the last of four siblings. In my teens, I was the only one still living at home. Dad was a traveling salesman, and Mom ran the business. They were both extremely busy. Then Mom made it a weekly tradition to take me out to dinner before my Girl Scout meetings. It was quality time with her that will always be looked back upon fondly.

When I was old enough to bathe myself but not shampoo my hair, my mother would come along toward the end of my bath and lay me down in the tub with her hand behind my head and wash my hair. Then while she combed it out and put it up in pincurls, she would tell me stories.

Much later I recognized with a jolt of familiarity that many of her stories were episodes or entire plots from well-known operas and classic literature, from Greek mythology to Charles Dickens. For instance, she told me the story of Madam Butterfly and related how Silas Marner came to adopt Eppie. This may be one reason why I became so fond of books myself and was always at home with literature.

My mother died four years ago, in her eighties, still a great reader.

The most vivid memory of my mother is watching her get dressed to go out dancing with my father, especially during the holiday season. There were elegant proper formal dances held by different civic organizations back then (not so much now.) I remember her gowns were so beautiful. There was one made of celadon crepe that had been hand-beaded with flowers all around the top and all around the hem. When she moved, the beads and sequins sparkled . I would sit in a chair so I could watch her get ready. She would lay the dress on the bed and take out her jewelry box and start to dig for things to match. Sometimes I would help her (this was my favorite part). Out would come strings of sparkling aurora borealis beads and lustrous pearls. If it was a really “special” occasion, then it meant we had to get dad to open the big safe to get her “good jewelry” out. These pieces were kept in black velvet boxes or pouches and had been family heirlooms or gifts from my father to her. We would put the pieces on the dresses or she would hold the earrings up to her ears and then decide. Oh, and then…the shoes. My mother had teeny tiny shoes in every color of the rainbow and in satin and suede with rhinestone clips and silk bows. Some had buttons, some had flowers. Some were stiletto heels and some were kitten heels. She would put those on last, put some tissue in her evening bag, grab a stole and off they went. My dashing father and my glittering mother off to dance the night away. It was during the real “Mad Men” days. <sigh>. I was just knee-high, but I remember those evenings very vividly.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers in the Fluther!

I was in the hospital, waking up from having my tonsils out, and she was sitting there. I was only awake for a minute, but there is no expressing how comforting that was.

Meh. All I remember are the negatives.

My mother needed a wheelchair to get around by the time I was in my early teens. I used to push her really fast through the mall while we were shopping. She told everyone and loved to bring it up in conversation. I guess she had a good time.

It’s now been 3 years since my mother died. I don’t have very many good memories of her. I like to think that she and I were happy about making a sometimes difficult situation a bit more fun.

When I was a child, my mother could be a lot of fun. We used to have tea-bag fights at the breakfast table. The soggy, used bag would be catapulted via a teaspoon. We’d launch them at each other while my father laughed.

I didn’t live with my mother until I was about 5yrs old but she did visit a few times before that and I have a wonderful memory of her visage. Mom was probably 21 or 22 then, slim, tall (to me) and had super long, straight, black hair. I remember her laugh and how soft her skin was. My grandmother was a very polished, striking and intense woman whereas mom was gentle, soft and flowy. I thought she was wonderful.

Here in england town mother’s day was back in march, that doesn’t matter though, so here goes.
My mam & dad weere divorced when I was just 6 & therefore, every memory I have is a special one, what else but admiration for a single mum bringing up 3 boys…good on ya ma!

My mom and I love playing the piano. When I became proficient enough we would sit at the piano and play duets together. She would always let me lead and we would laugh and laugh as I would speed up and slow down suddenly throughout the piece. I also loved sitting very still and listen to my mom sing. She suffered from depression at times so those moments were so precious to me.

Thank you everyone for sharing your memories of your mother with us all. It was great to read your stories and it is funny thing things that stick in our minds.

I know that my mom read books to me that were “over my head” on purpose so that I could hear correct English. Then when I was older she would take me to the library to be around books. While there we would get several of books for people my age and she would borrow them to read to me.

My mum was (and still is) one of the most amazing and supportive people I have ever known. She’s also quite the “bulldog” when she gets her teeth into something. She only ever wanted the best for me and my sisters and whenever something got in the way of that she would fight tooth and nail until she got it. When I had my first spinal surgery at the age of 18 I woke up terrified and in pain, and she was the first person I saw.

She has Alzheimers now, and she can’t always remember who I am (she often thinks I’m one of her uncles) but she’s still just the same.

It must be very hard when she can’t remember you @Bent. Sounds like you have wonderful memories of your mum before the alzheimer’s.

@Bent, I just made a new friend whose mother has Alzheimers. She is the one who, with the help of a visiting nursing service, is the main
caregiver. She made the comment that when her mother
met me and I spoke directly to her, actually smiled. I think
that it is amazing that you
realize that underneath
everything, she is still there.
Bravo for understanding that,
even with the disease, your mother is still the same person.
I agree with @Bellatrix. You must have wonderful memories of life with her!

edit: If I sounded condescending, I apologize for that. It was not intended!

@Bellatrix and @GracieT I do have wonderful memories, thankyou both.

This just came to mind. The time when I brought home a giant garter snake I found and was begging to keep it and my poor mother, she was beside herself, blocking the doorway, and then….it regurgitated a half digested bullfrog on her foot. lololol

My poor mom, I challenged her a lot, being a tomboy.
I became the mom who always said ” Sure, we can keep it! ” haha

[mod says] This is our Question of the Day!

My mother taught me how to cook some of my favorite Ecuadorian foods when I was younger, my favorite being empanadas de queso. They were always a special treat in our house, usually reserved for the weekends when we did make them, and I remember standing behind her, peeking out from behind her hips afraid the oil would hit me when she started frying. The smell of them cooking, and the feeling of wrapping myself tight around her waist has stuck with me. I miss those days.

And whenever I was sad she sang My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean to me. And even now I hum it to myself when she’s not around and I’m feeling bummed.

My mother spent Mother’s Day in the emergency room and the hospital. She is still in there now, and I only got back from the hospital an hour ago. I don’t mention this to make anyone sad or dwell on painful memories of their own, that’s all I’ve been doing and I don’t want anyone else to feel like that. I just wanted to say while reading this thread was hard for me, I’m glad all of you added to it. It helped me remember and focus more on a lot of my own memories of happier times with my mother before she was sick and even the moments we have now, and whatever we have left. Instead of focusing on all of the pain she’s in and the hardship we’re dealing with now. So, for everyone who shared, thanks for giving me a tiny reprieve from the last two days.

Sending you both positive thoughts @asmonet. Those are some beautiful memory gifts from your mum.