So I know I have mentioned several times, but I really have the world's best parents. Honestly. They have always been there for all four of us. They are the some of the first people I want to call when something great happens, or when I want some pity or a peptalk or even a bit of tough love.
Today is not only Easter but also my mother's birthday. I wanted to take a minute today to write a little bit about her, because she really is the best.
Growing up my mother instilled in all of us kids a love of the arts, especially the theater. I remember seeing plays by Moliere and art exhibits by Degas. In high school she allowed us occasional "mental health days" where we would go into the city to the art museum. Not only did she often take us to the theater but she would often take along my friends or boyfriend. When I took a Shakespeare class my freshman year I had a huge advantage over everyone else because I had seen almost every play we read live.
When we were very young my mom stayed home with us kids, but when we were older she went back to work first as a teaching assistant to put us all in braces and then working as a legal secretary under various horrible attorneys to put us all through college. She still found the time to volunteer in various capacities in our lives. I remember one time she volunteered to run a fruit sale as a fundraiser for the high school marching band. Somehow there was a mix up and hundreds of cases of fruit were delivered to our house instead of to the school. I remember sitting outside of various banks in the dead of winter selling Girl Scout cookies. When my sister had a leading role in the high school musical my mom sewed several elaborate ball gowns for her.
My mom has always been great at anything relating to reading and English. When we were kids she would read books aloud to us as we ate breakfast. She read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, James and the Giant Peach, and one called Julie and the Wolves. I remember that she was so upset when I announced to her that I simply wasn't going to read The Scarlet Letter, which was mandatory summer reading for AP English. I found the book too boring and planned to read the Cliff's Notes and muddle through the test somehow. She wouldn't let me skip it. Instead, each day she would corner me and read a chapter out loud. I have an understanding and odd fondness for that book that I never would have had if we didn't have that experience that summer. She also read and corrected all of our term papers. Even now, when I teach my second graders grammar, I hear her voice in my head stating the rules of spelling or comma placement.
She didn't stop being there for us when we left home for college. She continued to correct many of my college term papers. She also took care packages to a whole new level with treats and little extras for every season or holiday. My freshman year of college I remember overhearing my roommate on the phone with her mother pleading, "Can't you send me a package? Lisa's mom sends her packages almost every week!"
I am sure at the time we took for granted all of the amazing things she did for us. Now that I am a mother myself, I have to imagine that there were many times when she must have felt like throwing in the towel rather than driving us one more place, or packing one more lunch, or chaperoning one more cavalcade. I don't remember saying thank you very often as a kid or teenager. I hope it's not too late to say that I recognize all of the time she sacrificed for us, and that I truly appreciate it.
There certain defining characteristics of Mary Stephenson. Perfect Palmer Method cursive handwriting. The way she rolls pairs of socks up into little round balls. Her positive self talk ("Can we do it? Yes... we can!"). My mom also appreciates the simple pleasures of life: a large Coke from a drive through on a hot day, a true crime novel, some fudge. She always has several books going at once. She loves to talk about her plans for her garden or her latest thrifting find. She can tell you anything you need to know about genealogy work. She looks forward to trips to Orlando not be a tourist but to "relax by the pool".
My mom has always been dedicated to serving other people. She has tutored kindergartners in reading. She has woken up when it was still dark out to drive grumpy teenagers to early morning seminary for years (even grumpy teenagers who weren't related to her). Ryan often laughs because every time we call my mom it seems she is off to take cookies to someone who is sick in the hospital or babysitting twin infants or driving the sister missionaries somewhere so they can save their miles. She is an avid quilter but you won't find many of her quilting projects at her house. She has given almost all of her quilts away to her kids or the young women in her ward. She is also one of Lancaster's most popular tour guides and has spearheaded an effort to give tours to all of Lancaster's school children.
Both of my parents have always been very respectful of us kids and the decisions we make for ourselves, big or small. They have always been there to offer non-judgmental counsel but have ultimately let us choose the paths we wanted to follow, for better or for worse. I remember one summer night when I was home from college, being dropped home late at night and I couldn't get in the house. For some reason I didn't have a house key or cell phone and my ride pulled away without making sure I was in the door safely. My parents windows were wide open and I could hear them both snoring. I leaned on the doorbell but it didn't rouse them. I went around to the backdoor and found the sliding glassdoors in the basement were open. I was able to get into the basement but the door at the top of the stairs in the basement was locked, so I still couldn't get into the house. Finally, I gave up. The camping equipment was stored in the basement and I pulled out a sleeping bag, and crawled into it to sleep under the stars on the front lawn. I woke up the next day to my mother standing on the front stoop saying "Lisa, dear, are you going to work today?" as if it were the most normal thing in the world that I would be sleeping on the front lawn. She might not have understood my motives for sleeping on the lawn, but she wasn't going to bother me about them.
Mary Stephenson is the BEST grandmother. They say you don't really appreciate your mother until you become a mother yourself, and it is so true. She has been there for me during every struggle of motherhood-- reassuring me, listening to me, taking an interest in the mundane details of breastfeeding, diaper rashes, or the preschool teacher who didn't seem to jive with Isaac.
When Isaac was born I was living with her and my dad. It was a very hard period in my life when I was working full time, going to grad school full time, and it seemed that every spare minute was spent reading or writing papers. My mother would pick Isaac up at daycare almost everyday, feed him, bathe him and rock him to sleep while I was working or at class. As a baby, Isaac was a terrible sleeper and an extremely early riser. My mother would often listen for him in the mornings and would get him up and entertain him so that I could eek out an extra half hour of sleep.
And she spoiled Isaac rotten. As a toddler Isaac loved balloons and he would often come home from the grocery store with the biggest mylar balloon they sold. Even now when she comes to visit she always has a little treat for him-- a book or a candy bar. She has never missed a grandparent's day at his school. Or a book fair for that matter. She always makes sure he has those little extras that I might not be able to afford-- Scout Camp, a trip to the movies or a school yearbook.
When I found out my second baby was a girl, I knew I wanted to honor my mom, so Hannah's middle name Marie is a nod to her.
When I was pregnant, she announced that she would like to be Hannah's primary caregiver when I returned to work this school year. It is a major undertaking since we live about an hour apart, but it has made it so much easier to leave Hannah at this young age. Even when I return home from work to find that Hannah has had ten messy diapers, thrown up everything she ate and has taken no naps, my mom is still smiling and has somehow found the time to bake sugar cookies and take out the trash in Isaac's room. I'm telling you-- world's best grandma.
If I can be half as good a mom, grandmother and human being as you are, I would be so blessed.
Happy, happy birthday Mom! We love you so much!
Rain cancelled baseball Friday, so Isaac was able to meet up with my brother Joe at Arnold's Go Karts. He had inherited a gift card from a coworker. Isaac had a blast with him. I was a bit lonely at home on a Friday night with no Isaac and no Ryan. Isaac didn't come home until after 10 o'clock! Miss Banana happened to be up, so Joe got to squeeze in some time with her. He calls her a meatball, which is pretty apt these days. 
Isaac then went to spend some time with his dad and Banana and I headed into the city to see my friend Becca and her baby Wolfie (and yes, our kids have normal names like Hannah and William and we just chose to refer to them by bizarre nicknames.) Her neighborhood was hosting the Kinetic Derby (you can read about our adventures at the Derby last year here). We missed the actual race but there was still live music, booths, and food trucks. We did catch this one biking away. There were pictures on the panels that created a mini-movie as the cylinder spun. 
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