There’s plenty of debate over whether or not moms should stay home and watch the kids rather than work.
Given the demands the economy puts on us all, that’s probably unrealistic.

But imagine if she could stay home.

There’s a nice piece by Dino Flammia over how much her working at home to raise the kids etc. would be worth on the open market.

I’ll give you an example. Priceless!

My mom was a stay-at-home mom until I graduated high school, which was when she took a job in the newly opened Kings Plaza Mall in Brook-a-leen!

that's my mom in the middle - looking like one of the B-52s
that's my mom in the middle - looking like one of the B-52s
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She relished it, working in the camera department at Macy’s.

Not that she had to.

My dad was baking bread when he wasn’t playing the trotters; and we were living rent-free in my grandmother’s house.

But for the time she was home, she was all business. My aunt used to call her a “piece worker” because she could do 15 things at once; like raise 4 kids, clean, cook – especially for my father who was the biggest pain-in-the-ass if he didn’t like what she’d made for dinner or the cake she’d buy.
(I’ll tell you the Ebingers story later!)

Then there were the two grandmothers. Her mother lived in Coney Island, and we loved to go to her house every other Sunday; even though my father used to break her chops telling her she couldn’t cook.

(Her sauce used to come out orange, and when my father used to point it out, she’s tell his to “go scratch his ass!”)

the two Grandmas
the two Grandmas
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Grandma Rossi was another story. She was the one I learned all my Italian from…well, her dialect of Italian (Neapolitan)!
And her stories and sayings stay with me to this day.

And even though she worked in the store every day of the week, it never mattered. She was always there stuffing a buck or two in your pocket, even if you didn’t want it.

Now you might find this cruel, but take it for what it’s worth.

My mom, as much of a job as my father was to care for, took care of him until the day he died, which was Mother’s Day in 2001.

I always said to myself that he’d given her the best present he could have.

Don’t get me wrong. I miss him very much; as does my mother.
My ode to him is here.

But my mother was and is something else. Quiet but strong at the same time.
And I appreciate every day she’s here…not just Mother’s Day!

Here’s hoping you remember your mom, whether she still be with us, or looking over you.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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