A story about my mom

I remember two Halloween's. One was in California--I was Olive Oil. The other was in Indiana. I remember that Halloween in particular because that was the Halloween I spewed my guts. My mom always made us put our candy in a communal pot. When you turned 12 you weren't allowed to go trick-or-treating anymore and since the younger kids could still go trick-or-treating my mom made us put it in the pot so the older kids, no longer allowed to trick-or-treat could still enjoy the fruits of their siblings labors.

That Halloween I must have been my last Hallowed because I was 11. My mom let me go to Logansport to trick-or-treat with my friend Amy (Samuels) Rowbury. I was so excited and had such a good time. And I ate a little too much candy--I threw up. I don't recall if I threw up before or after I got home and I don't remember all the details of the evening. There are three important pieces of this memory though. One is that we were living in a warehouse. We slept in office rooms on mattresses. We ate in the break room. We used the hand driers as our hair driers. The next piece of importance is that my mom was 8 months pregnant. She also slept on a mattress on the floor. And the final important piece is not a concrete image at all. It is the memory of a feeling. I clearly knew that night that my mom was interested in my night and that she took care of me that night. I imagine that my mom whispered sweet, consoling words to me that I would feel better and that she was sorry my fun night was ruined.

The memory has become important to me over the past few weeks. My mom's behavior under the circumstances of that memory leave me in wonder. At the time I was aware of living in a warehouse. I knew my mom was pregnant. I knew I threw up. But now, after having been pregnant three times, moving four times in five and a half years, and taking care of a few sick kids, I understand a little better.

The past month has been hard for us. Moving is hard. I moved a lot growing up. We joke that my dad was a gypsy. The moves my family made growing up were different than this current move. We were living in that warehouse because we had no other place to move. My dad was in between jobs (maybe he had just started his new job) and things were pretty uncertain at the time.

There was a secure job with secure pay waiting for us in Oho. The Air Force paid for our stay in the hotel. Living in the hotel for three weeks was stressful. Not knowing where we were going to live was stressful. But, I slept on a Queen size bed these last three weeks. We had a continental breakfast provided for us. We had a full bathroom. They were pretty nice hotels. We also stayed at my sister's house. She made us meals, provided towels, blankets, entertainment, and conversation, among other things.

My mom was eight months pregnant sleeping on the floor!! But more than that, she was eight months pregnant sleeping on the floor and extending her love to a daughter that made a silly choice by eating too much candy. I don't remember my mom ever complaining about living in that warehouse. I was oblivious to her aches and pains and stresses. All I knew was that I felt my mom's love. And now, with all my experiences, that loves takes on a deeper meaning.
She must have complained, right? Though, not everyone whines about things like I do. I wish my mom had kept a journal because I'd love to know how she really felt about those days. The worries my poor mom must have had.

I hope that my kids are as oblivious to my feelings about moving and other trials I might go through as I was to my mom's.