Mimi Saves the Day!

My mom asked me today, "Any new gossip ona Facebook?" No, that's not a typo when I say "ona." I was trying to figure out how to transcribe the random Japanese accent that escapes her from time to time and that's the best way I can put it. I was going to say, "On-a-the Facebook," but that would make her sound more Italian- and this was definitely an oriental slight of tongue. Although she has been in the U.S. since the early 60s, moving here as a 13 year old village-brown-skinned-I-spent-all-of-my-life-thus-far-sleeping-on-a-bamboo-mat Okinawan girl, my mother's Japanese accent comes out every now and then.

A hard core Republican, retired military lady, my mom is now as American as apple pie- but every once and awhile, she'll say something and make just the right, slightest grammatical error that's enough to remind me that she once was fresh off the boat and didn't speak a word of English.

I don't think she even catches it when she does it- but I do. I always do. And on days like today when weeks of lack of sleep catches up to me and I'm feeling mildly retarded and irritable- this tiny little quirk of hers has the ability to crack a smile on my face when seemingly nothing can snap me out of my stupor.

I'm going to go ahead and do a little bandwagon hopping on and do a whole "Today I am Grateful For" blog post, since I've been seeing these a lot on status updates on Facebook. Thank you social networking for reminding me to vocalize what I am thankful for this month instead of just merely dreading/looking forward to the gigantic turkey and 1000 calorie packed sides feast that I will battle my wills against in a few weeks. Although it should always be the season to be grateful, 'tis the season to be especially grateful, right?

So today- as I am every day- I am especially grateful for my mother. Next to food, water, shelter and breathing, my mother is an essential part of my survival. I truly believe, as I would imagine that other women who have Asian mothers believe, Asian mothers are in a class all their own.

Watch the Joy Luck Club. It's no joke. Even the Asian mothers who are Americanized have it in them.

My mom comes up once a week to help me out with the house and babies- and the degree in which she volunteers her time and efforts can not be rivaled. I'm 100% confident in saying that my mom is the most selfless, helpful, service and duty-driven woman ON THE PLANET.

A 30 years of service retired military superintendent who grew up as the oldest of 8 children? Yeah- you don't get better help than that! Sometimes to a fault- because that also makes me under the "commander's wing," and Captain Bossy Pants forgets that I am an adult woman who is capable of running her own household- but still. The break she gives me every week is a thousand Christmas mornings wrapped up into the 48-hour period of time that she drives up from Norman to stay with us. I want to bottle her endless energy and drink it every morning in place of the bullshit decaf coffee I get instead.

How many women have to literally convince and physically pry their mothers off of her hands and knees to stop spot cleaning your kitchen floor with a paper towel? It gets a little ridiculous and makes me feel bad- like either:

A.) Is my house really that dirty? I don't think it is- but now I'm starting to develop a complex like my house is never clean enough when she's not here. She doesn't hesitate to point out what I should be cleaning better, more and more often- suggesting I do things in ways that are ultimately the way she does them, therefore making my ways less than adequate.

B.) I am uncomfortable feeling like some overprivileged princess brat who allows her mother to clean her floors with a paper towel. But her obsessive cleaning is not my idea and she's impossible to stop when she gets going on something. She's a machine. She'll ignore my persisting that I will do it later and continue to buzz around the house looking for things to pick up, clean and put away anyways.

"I can't stand seeing all of this dog and cat hair- and your hair all over the place!" she exclaims.

I've learned to accept her help because there is nothing I can do to stop her- although I do have to push and insist and all but beg that she chill out and just relax and hang out with me sometimes- which is the double edged sword here. It's her way of showing love and that she cares. Some mothers show their love through affirmations, gifts, quality time... my mom likes to clean my house, nit pick me to death and boss me around. It's just her way.

Every Sunday, before she comes, Taylor and I say, "Yay! Mimi saves the day!" Then I proceed to pick up and straighten up and try to "correct" the things she pointed out I should do better than the last time she was here- partially to please her, and partially to save myself from having to hear about it all over again once she walks in the door.

I have actually come up with a children's book called, "Yay! Mimi Saves the Day!" that I have yet to dive into creating physically. The thought and inspiration is there though. My mommy is my personal superheroine. SUPER MIMI!

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