Next week, my mom will be celebrating a milestone birthday – 85. I remember the days when she was 39 for about 15 years, but now that she’s in her 80s, our family doesn’t miss an opportunity to celebrate another year with our mother.
Her daily schedule is ambitious. In the morning over coffee and cereal, she finishes the newspaper’s daily crossword puzzle. Except on Sundays. She said that one’s too hard.
She does all her own shopping and housework and is always making soup or dinner for someone who’s under the weather.
Once a week, she volunteers in the gift shop at Lane Memorial Hospital. She loves greeting the customers and helping them find gifts for loved ones. She’s the first to take someone else’s shift if they’re ill or going out of town, and that’s in addition to her regular hours.
One day a week, she enjoys “lunch with the ladies.” There’s quite a few older women in the complex where she lives, and a group goes out to eat on Fridays. Over soul food, egg-drop soup or fried fish, they catch up on what’s going on in the neighborhood, talk politics and discuss their great-grandchildren.
After lunch, Mom often plays cards with another group of ladies and then it’s home in time to watch the soap opera she’s watched for over 20 years, “The Young and The Restless.”
On Monday nights, she fixes a complete dinner for my brothers and their wives. The main reason they visit is because they genuinely enjoy Mom’s company. But Mom knows having dinner together is her sons’ secretive way of checking on her, seeing if anything needs repairing around the house and making sure she’s taking her medications.
She manages her own checking account, pays her own bills, loves surfing the Internet, playing “Cookie Jam” and reading Facebook posts.
She remembers the birthdays of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and always sends a card and a few dollars to the little ones. In turn, they all know who she is and, from time to time, have all spent time on her lap.
As I write this, she’s in the hospital, recovering from a small blood clot in her leg. She’s furious because we’ve got a huge party planned for her next week, and she is fuming in that hospital bed because she has things to do to get ready. Although all her children are grown with families of their own, she’s still the boss and is making sure we’re doing what supposed to be done for the party.
First, and most important question – what are we eating?
I told her our in-town brothers and sisters-in-law have caterers lined up and that we all have a list of what we’re supposed to supply for the party.
“What about entertaining the out-of-town guests?” she asked.
Triumphantly, I said her sons had already thought of that – they’ve arranged visits to the Baton Rouge casinos and lunches at Cajun restaurants. Rides are arranged for transportation to and from airports and everybody has a place to stay.
“You raised us right,” we told her, and, with that answer, she was satisfied to do everything the doctors are asking because she wants to be up and ready to see family.
We know the promise of seeing her loved ones is the best medicine in the world for our mom, and she said she’s leaving that hospital in plenty of time to get ready for her party, even if she has to drag that pole and drip along behind her.
I pity anybody who stands in the way of this 4’11” Lebanese matriarch.
We know we’re extremely blessed to still have our mom with us in good health and of sound mind. So we’re rolling out the red carpet for her 85th birthday and celebrating Dee Hebert with food, laughter and, most of all, love.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.