When you google my mom’s name, that’s the first thing you see on the right. Her face and her twitter summary. The first link is to her twitter. Then her etsy. Her blog. Her facebook for her designs. Her facebook for her zazzle shop. She also has a tumblr, but she doesn’t use it as much. They each show a small piece of her.
But that’s not who she fully is.
This is my mom. A photographer.
This is my mom. She loves cats.
This is my mom. She makes crafts.
Yes, that giant ottoman is something she made. She designed the pattern herself. She does the big stitches by machine, and the corners and stuffing by hand.
She works very hard. But she doesn’t often see the product of it.
We’ve lived in our home for nearly 14 years now. Mom tells me that she and dad weren’t expecting to live here that long. We were just going to be here for two or three years. And yet, we’re still here.
None of us are really happy about it. But, I’m not saying all this because I want a new home. I’m saying this because I love my mom.
She’s been upset for several years now. We’re stuck. Dad works two jobs. Mom can’t work because she has back problems. So she can’t sit or stand for too long at a time. I work, now, and I’ll be getting my first paycheck this week.
What mom does do is make crafts. The things on her etsy, specifically. (We haven’t really put much up on the ottomans since they’re still in the beta stage.)
She hates being stuck where we are. She and dad are doing everything they can possibly do just so things are livable. We do have two working cars, but we’re extremely wary. One accident, and we won’t be able to pay for it.
We have a roof over our heads. But it’s old, needs work, and we can’t do it or afford it.
We have clothes. But Mom can’t fit in half of her wardrobe anymore. It’s all too big. And she has yet to find any good shoes anymore. Most of hers are worn out.
We have some money. But just enough to pay some basic bills, get food. We’re often worried if we can get gas. We haven’t had a full gas tank in months. We just get enough so we’re not running on fumes.
It sucks. And she’s so frustrated. She’s incredibly stressed by our situation and she just feels helpless. Just earlier today, she said “I’m sorry you’re stuck with a crazy mother.”
But she’s not crazy. I don’t think so, anyway. She just has some temper issues, though she does well not to completely explode.
I just wish there was something I could do for her. Something more.
I wish I could figure out a way to get us unstuck
