Mom: You are the best person in the whole world. You always have been. You know what to do and when to do it.
You tell your mama because she needs to know it.
Me: Will do, mom.
Mom: I am going to write a book about you so your mama can read about what a good guy you are.
Me: Wow, that’s really sweet, mom! Are you going to give her a copy?
Mom: No … but she can buy one.
The white hair on the left belongs to my mom.
The white hair on the right belongs to Brodie.
And, mom and Brodie, a male Maltese puppy, are two identical looking white hairs who act like they’ve been joined at the hip forever.
Mom may ask what Brodie’s name is a million times and refer to him as “that cat” as much as she does “that dog”, but when their eyes connect, their is nothing but a whole lot of love showing … along with mom’s hands waving and clapping and Brodie’s tail wagging.
Even though Brodie’s vocabulary is limited to a constant barrage of high pitched barks and yips, mom hears it as puppy love talk.
And, when Brodie jumps in mom’s lap uninvited and thinks mom’s finger is a chew bone, mom just laughs and barks and yips back.
I wrote a blog post titled Hair Bolts that I invite you to click over to. It’s a short read, but has a picture of another member of the White Hairs Gang. I don’t want to give you the answer, but I will give you a hint. This little white hair wonder comes from the plant kingdom. And, like mom and Brodie, this one will grow on you.
Speaking of pictures, here’s one more of Brodie and mom.
No matter their ages, no matter their stages, no matter if mom is “bark, bark, yip, yip” or Brodie is “that cat” or “that dog”, these two white hairs were made for each other.
Two things are for certain, one is these white hairs stick together and two, I wouldn’t want to try to pry them apart, because they both have teeth and know how to use them.
PS – You always hear how pets and older folks stick together and I would love for you to share your take and stories on this. Thanks!
And, double thanks for spending some time with mom, Brodie and me.
OK, you asked for it, here it is!
My mom’s first encounter with Mr. Booger Head, aka, Mr. Potato Head, captured live for your viewing pleasure.
So, count with me …
One potato,
Two potato,
Three potato,
Four …
Click on the play button,
And you’ll get a laugh and more!
PS – You may need to turn up the sound.
PSS – Click HERE to read more about mom and Mr. BH.
Mom’s great grandboys, Thomas, Fisher and Patrick, traveled all the way from their home in Wilmington, North Carolina to Richmond, Virginia to meet the Great Abomination, aka, Mr. Booger Head, aka, Mr. Potato Head.
They had heard about how mom just despised the little guy from the very first time she set eyes on him. And, she certainly hadn’t changed her mind when the boys arrived for a visit.
If you haven’t read my post on Mr. Booger Head and mom, just click HERE.
For the full length movie (2 minutes and 17 seconds), click HERE.
When the boys asked mom if I could take a picture of them with Mr. Booger Head (mom’s name for him) she immediately grabbed the Great Abomination (my name for him) from Thomas’s hand and jerked him up and down like he was a martini being shaken-stirred-shaken,-stirred-shaken-stirred.
Oh, I could add another descriptive … sliced and diced.
“Isn’t he the ugliest thing you have ever seen? He should be thrown in the basement and locked away so he can never come back. Have you ever seen anything like him? His eyes never move. He is an evil man.”
The boys response was laughter and that just egged mom on more.
Right before their eyes, mom threw one of Mr. Booger Head’s ears high into the air and it fell to the floor accompanied by more laughter.
I found myself pulling for the little guy. I had seen that same ear, along with the other one, his nose, mouth, hat, shoes, arms and hands being torn or shaken off by mom so many times, I had lost count.
I knew for certain, plastic surgery was just around the corner.
I suggested to the boys that we should get a restraining order that wouldn’t allow mom to get any closer than twelve feet of Mr. Booger Head.
I thought twelve feet would give mom a chance to yell at him, but not dismember him. After all, sticks and stones were nothing compared to mom’s technique of breaking his bones … and that her words would never hurt him. Especially after being rendered deaf by mom yanking his ears off of his head any chance she could get.
The boys had a ball.
I got my picture.
Mom got a win-win.
She got an audience and she got her man, meaning no sooner than I had clicked the picture, she had yanked the eyes right out of Mr. Booger Head’s head.
“There. You will never be able to look at me again. Now you go lock yourself up. You are the ugliest thing I have ever seen.”
I wish mom hadn’t used that last word. How would you feel if you had just had your eyes yanked out and heard from the yanker a reference to sight. It is just so not right.
Restraining order! Could I please get an restraining order!
All I am asking for is for twelve feet between my 92 year old mom and the Great Abomination … is that too much to ask?
Mom loves, no, is addicted to, country music.
All I have to do is turn the music up to ten and she takes it from there.
The Zac Brown Band is on the performing end of one of her favorite songs right now. “Toes” is the song and when it comes on the radio, all I have to do is make sure I keep my eyes on the road and not get too distracted (emphasis on too).
What I want to do is watch her feet. They start tapping to the beat and take on a life of their own. I just love watching her dip her toes in the water and become one with this song!
(Eyes on the road, Tom. Eyes on the road.)
Even though she would swap a cold beer for a tall glass of sweet iced tea any day, she can shake it with the best of them … always has.
So, click on my little impromptu video, sit back, relax, and I’ll bet you your feet will be tapping to the beat and your arms will be going here, there and yonder in no time, just follow mom’s lead.
Pretty soon, you’ll look down and find your toes have joined mom’s down by the waterside!
If you want to sing along, here’s the chorus to “Toes” by the Zac Brown Band.
I got my toes in the water, *** in the sand
Not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand
Life is good today. Life is good today.
What a great way to kick-start the morning! Hands in the air! Toes in the water!
Wish I could drive like that.
Nevertheless, life is good today!
Me: Mom, did you ever meet Jesus in person?
Mom: Yep. Many times.
Me: Well, who is Jesus, anyway?
Mom: Everybody knows that. He’s God’s boy.
Me: (speechless)
I knew a man who once said, “death smiles at us all; all a man can do is smile back.”–From the movie Gladiator
When mom starts to go down the twelve steps it takes for her to get to the ground floor of her home, she always looks down from the top of the stairs and says, “I hope I make it. If I don’t, I am just going to die.”
I don’t believe she is really thinking about really dying, because I don’t believe she thinks she will ever fall. But one thing’s for sure, her saying this is as predicable as day and night. It is her very own homemade expression … no more … no less.
Besides, I am in front of her all the way. I back down the stairs, one step below her each step of the way, so I can steady her if need be. Remember, I am her son and guardian angel. And the fact is, mom has never had a misstep on my watch, and that’s been a little over two years, now.
Normally, I follow her “I’m going to die,” line with something like, “You’re not going to fall, mom. You are a mountain climbing woman and you are going to hop down these steps like a champion. All you need to do is count each step out loud (which she always does), and before you know it, you will be at the bottom.”
That’s her cue to say, “OK, if you think I can make it,” and then start stepping her way down while counting out loud to twelve. Her steps are always steady and sure.
But, this time, for whatever reason, I switched it up and asked her what she thought about people dying?
“I don’t like it one bit, because every time somebody dies, you have to stop everything you’re doing and go out and get some chicken and rolls and some kind of salad … and cake.
This is what you have to do every time somebody dies. And, you have to go to their funeral and be nice even if that person wasn’t nice. You can’t even say they weren’t nice because this is their day, even if they don’t know it. It just is.
Then everybody eats and nobody says much other than, this is so sad, or it’s so nice to see you.
When you get home you can finally say anything you want about what you really think. And you get so hungry, you just want to eat more.”
Time flies when you talk about death and dying with mom. We were both at the bottom of the steps before we knew it. Mom was as serious as she could be and I was seriously laughing my head off.
In fact I was laughing so hard, I had worked up an appetite.
I sure could have used a big slice or two of that cake!
“You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.”
My wife, Melissa, is always on the lookout for things to add to mom’s “Toy Box” … things that will keep mom entertained, engaged and challenged. I call them toys for grown up girls and boys. So, when Melissa spotted Mr. Potato Head in Walgreens, she asked me if I thought it was worthy of being in mom’s collection.
My immediate response was that it was plastic, had way too many little parts to keep up with and that mom might try to eat them for a snack.
Melissa deftly countered each of my concerns and in a blink of an eye (mine), we were the proud owner of Mr. Potato Head.
We gave Mr. Potato Head to mom’s caregiver just before leaving town on a rather long business trip and never saw or even followed up on how mom reacted or interacted with her new little tater tot.
This morning, I was reading the newspaper while mom was eating her cereal. It is my “quiet time” and I really treasure those twenty minutes with me, myself and I; my coffee and my paper.
I was only half a cup into my “quiet time” when the sound of silence was shattered.
First I heard mom say, “Look, look at that! Look … it’s a booger. It’s the biggest booger I have ever seen.”
When I looked her way, she was holding Mr. Potato Head in her hands and shaking it with all her might. A tiny plastic pink ear flew through the air followed by an arm.
I was having one of those what-has-mom-done-now moments and was totally focused on finding the booger. Then I realized she was referring to none other than Mr. Potato Head, himself.
“This is the ugliest thing I have ever seen since I was born! You wouldn’t want to be kin to it. Look at that face. You are not in my family. We have got to hide you.”
Before I could yell, “duck,” another little white plastic arm hurdled through the air and plopped on mom’s shoulder. Unfazed, she flicked it off with one hand while continuing to shake Mr. Potato Head with the other.
“I have never seen a person look like this ever in the United States of America! It must be visiting.”
I held back my laughter in order to affirm that possibility with a few nods, and then I just let it all out. The only thing I could think of to say between laughs was, “It’s Mr. Booger Head!”
Mom repeated what I said, shaking harder and harder. “Mr. Booger Head, Mr. Booger Head, that’s you. You are one tiny man and you look like a booger.”
Then, she started tearing off plastic parts and putting them in her mouth. A pretty decent sized red nose formed a lump in her left cheek. My worst fear was being realized … mom was eating Mr. Booger Head … one bite at a time.
I rushed over to get those little plastic parts out of her mouth, yelling, “Mom, quit trying to eat that thing! Spit it out, now!”
She looked up at me and mumbled in a matter of fact tone, “I am not trying to eat it, I am trying to kill it.”
I was away from mom for two weeks and that’s the longest we have been apart since Melissa and I moved here to be with her two years ago.
I spent a lot of my away time high above the clouds flying from Richmond to Chicago to Des Moine to Minneapolis to Orlando to Fort Lauderdale and back to Richmond. There are a lot of “to” words in that sentence which means a lot of chances for delays, crying babies, lost luggage or Alec Baldwin-like incidents.
Luckily, I had smooth flying the entire trip.
When I was 30,000 feet high in the sky, it gave me plenty of time to take a few deep breaths and reflect on the past two years.
It has been like a change tsunami for my entire family, Melissa’s and my relationship, our business and me.
The fact that so much of what has occurred has centered around mom is inescapable. And although I am fully aware of how this “change tsunami” has taken its toll, I also see the gifts of lessons learned, challenges met, opportunities unfolding and perhaps, as a result of it all, a greater understanding and appreciation for the wonder and glory of life.
I am seeing the value of giving back. I am feeling the purpose of caring for those of us who are caregivers as well. I am gaining a broader perspective of what meaning is all about. I believe it is all contributing to making me a better person.
Along with these thoughts came a flood of memories, both recent and past. And, I must admit, if I had had a parachute strapped on my back at this point, I would have busted an exit door, leaped from the plane and guided my chute back to home base and mom!
I really missed her. Yep … I missed my mom!
My biggest fear was that I would be gone so long, that she would forget who I was. After all, she has no recollection of my sister, who passed away a year ago, and if she does say Nel’s name, it is in her sleep. By day, it’s as if my sister never existed.
Mom acts like she knows everybody. Even strangers crossing her path in the grocery store swear she knows them and they must have known her way back when.
She’ll say something like, “Hey, sugar lump, you are absolutely the most beautiful person I have ever seen. If you ever need anything, you write me a letter and I will get it for you. I love you! I just love you. You keep doing the good things that you do!”
The response she gets nine times out of ten is, “Yes Maam.” And the look that accompanies that response is the “she-knows-me” look.
The fact is, her social graces are the perfect cover for what she doesn’t know. And, they work for her as well with strangers, as they do with those closest to her.
Mom is not fake or false. She is real and this is what she really believes. She believes she knows you, aka everyone. She is just mom living and loving the moment.
I have watched her interact with people for so long, that I know exactly what’s going to happen. I know that if anyone asks her who they are, she will say something like, “the nicest person on this earth, that’s who you are! Aren’t you the nicest person on this earth? Does your mama know how nice you are? I know she loves you from top to bottom, just like I do.”
She is the unintended master of deflection and deception. She is magic when it comes to making anyone feel good … like a long lost friend.
I am special, because I am not anyone. I am “her boy!” I am “Tom Laughon” … except for the days I am “Fred”, but that was my dad’s name, so that’s close enough.
She’ll hug me in the evening when I tuck her in bed and in the morning when I wake her up and she’ll say things like, “You are the sweetest boy in the world. I mean in the whole wide world. You are so gifted because of how you make people feel. You are good looking and you know how to make people think and laugh. And that’s special! Not many people are like that and I don’t know any of them except you!”
I mean, after hearing that description, I know that could not be anybody but me. Mom has me spot on (or has my number)!
I have been back home from my trip for four days now. The first thing I did when I got back was beeline it straight for mom, hug her and wait to see her reaction.
First off, she wouldn’t let me go. She just kept holding me and saying, “It’s you! It’s really you! It’s my precious boy. I love this boy! I just love you so much!” Then she squeezed me and started to do a little dance.
She is almost pocket sized, and that’s just where I wanted to put her; in my pocket.
I am thinking, take a digital picture of us and let us live in it … picture perfect … forever.
On the way to adult daycare, I tested her once more by turning on the radio, cranking it up to 10 and honing in on our favorite country music station. Tim Mcgraw was belting out, “I ain’t as good as I’m gonna get, but I’m better than I used to be.”
I had two hands on the wheel, one foot on the pedal, one eye on the road and one eye on mom.
She was clapping her hands to the beat, rocking back and forth and nodding approvingly at the lyrics. Every now and then you could hear her feet tapping the floorboard. My one unoccupied foot began tapping, too.
Mom was hopping and a bopping and not missing a trick. When it was over she asked me to play it again.
Thank goodness we were rolling up to the entrance of her adult daycare and her eyes went straight to the automatic sliding glass doors. “There’s that hole you take me through every time you bring me here. I don’t know how you do it, but you do it. I just love you for it. It just opens up when you want it to. You are the smartest man I have ever known.”
Yep, that’s me! That’s her boy!
I have to get over that description of me pretty fast, because mom is in the lobby talking to the lady behind at the reception counter. “Good morning, sugar lump! You are the smartest person I have ever known. I am going to take a picture of you and hang it in my room so everybody in the United States of America can see how smart you are. If you need anything just ask for Helen Douglas Martin (mom’s maiden name) and I’ll come running.”
When I picked mom up at the end of the day she was waiting for me. The staff said she had asked about me all day.
“I didn’t think you were coming back to get me, but you did it! You are the best boy in the world and when I grow up, I want to be just like you and marry you!”
Luckily, most of the folks near mom were just happy that they would get to go to a wedding … any wedding. No explanations or apologies needed.
My first day back was going great, but the drive home was the best.
Mom looked up in the sky and lowered her head like it was falling.
“Look at those things, Tom! Have you ever seen so many? What are they doing up there?”
I looked up and saw an incredible blue sky chock full of cumulus clouds.
“Wow! What are they, mom?”
“They are those puffy things up there. Have you ever seen so many. I don’t know what they are doing up there, but they are sure everywhere. Look, there are even more over there.”
“Yep, they are everywhere all right. What do you think they are doing?”
“I don’t know, but there is food hidden in them, that’s for sure. Lots of food hiding in those puffy things.”
“Why is there food up there, mom?”
“For all the people! There are lots of people, so there has to be lots of food!”
“How did the people get up there?”
“I don’t know, but it sure wasn’t in cars. They probably just jumped.”
“How do you know there are no cars?”
“Because there are no roads, that’s why.”
She never called those puffy things clouds. She did see and point out a dog with wings, and he was sneezing.
She also saw a cat above the dog and it was sneezing, too.
I got so carried away with what she was seeing, I started playing rhythm on the steering wheel and singing the chorus to the Rolling Stones classic, “Hey You, Get Off of My Cloud.”
Mom started swinging and a swaying and clapping her hands. She raised them way up above her head until she was touching those puffy things.
Then she started singing, “I am so happy, happy am I, I am so happy, happy am I, and you’ll be happy, too.” Then she turned to me and said, “I just love you. I love you so much. It’s a beautiful day. I had a good time, today, son. Thanks for always helping me.”
Then she looked toward the sky. “Look at those puffy things up there. Aren’t they something?! What do you think they are?”
Great granddaughter, Livi, has issued her great grandmother, Helen, The Great Challenge.
Livi lives in Wilmington, North Carolina, and has challenged mom, who lives in Richmond, Virginia, to balance a spoon on her nose, no super glue or other adhesives allowed.
The challenge was issued with the following image attached.
Well, maybe it was just the picture that was sent, but I am making it into a challenge.
There is no question that Livi looks like and has the confidence of a champion.
What Livi doesn’t know is that mom has been practicing balancing a spoon on her nose for some time now and though her practice sessions are always done undercover, I have never underestimated her winning ways.
From the looks of things, mom seems mighty happy with what just happened.
In fact, judging from the two pictures, it is just too close for me to call!
So, I am calling on you to comment and tell me your choice of who should Win by a Nose. Votes will be closed at midnight on June 25th and the winner will be announced the next morning. So shoot your comments my way.
Who is the champion?
Is it Livi?
Is it Helen?
God only nose!
Welcome! I'm Tom Laughon (Lawn), the primary caregiver for my 97 year old mom, Helen!
I guess you could say my mom taught me the values, mindsets and skill sets to get where I am, and now I am using all I have learned, and continue to learn, to show my gratitude and love for her at this stage in both of our lives.
My mom has sure been my champion, cheerleader, teacher and "primary caregiver" for as long as I have been on this planet. She is an amazing, joyful human!
I invite you to follow our journey ... we would love to have you hop aboard for what promises to be a ride of a lifetime!
Buckle up, and welcome!
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My 91 Year Old Mom 