My Mom: A warrior in her own right

Today is Mother’s Day and my mom lives on the other side of the continent, in a different country. It was her birthday a few days ago too (I’m convinced she decided to be born near Mother’s Day to reap the present potential + glory). This blog post is about her.

My mom’s name is Jane, and she has more middle names than is reasonable for one person. I can’t keep them all straight, so I won’t mention them here. Jane was born in London, Ontario, to two recent (at the time) Scottish immigrants, Anne and Duncan. They came to Canada to avoid the after effects of the Second World War, in which my grandfather fought as a member of the British Special Forces No. 4 Commando Unit.

Jane is the youngest of three children, and according to family folklore, the biggest troublemaker of the three, and the toughest. I grew up hearing stories of my mother over and over. For example, in school she was the leader of the pack, the most popular, and the most beautiful. Mischievousness is a part of her DNA – and she didn’t always use it for good (which I really like about her).

Jane once won a roller skating race on skill and determination alone (she just decided to enter, not practice ahead of time). She is a gifted painter and ceramic artist. I wish she did more of these things.

She grew up to become a nurse, specializing in neo-natal care and then psychiatric nursing. A horrible car crash ended her career over 10 years ago, but has not stopped her from living and being an example of others on how to fight for their rights. Jane took on the Canadian Government (single-handedly) and won disability benefits to be paid directly to her, not her insurance company, after a lengthy battle. No one had ever achieved this type of settlement. In the process, she also had a shoddy doctor’s license to practice revoked by the Ontario College of Physicians and Surgeons.

One time, when I had to visit Victoria’s Royal Jubliee Hospital emergency room, I was embarrassed and upset by how the nursing staff treated me. I phoned my mom in anger  saying that I was leaving because of how I was made to feel. Jane would have none of this. As I was leaving, she had the nurse on the phone. In a few minutes, she had exposed her incompetence and reported her to her supervisor. The nurse’s supervisor and my mom had a lovely conversation. I’m sure that the nurse who spoke to my mom did not enjoy the rest of her shift.

The lesson: don’t ever fuck with Jane. And that is something I love greatly about her. My mom simply refuses to see a wrong and not do something about it. I learned that from her. And even though taken to an extreme it can be seen as being overbearing, there is far too little of this in the world. Err on the overbearing, I say. You never know who’s life you could change.

Jane has a wonderful sense of humour and is a great on the spot practical joker, and I believe I inherit these qualities directly from her. (Even though I always claim to be adopted – but that is for another post. I can’t find any evidence of this – yet). One of my favourite memories involves her dressed up in G.I. Joe gear and chasing me and my cousin’s around my Aunt’s house. As we were running by the front door, some members of a certain religious denomination had stopped by to see if we could be saved. Jane, ever the opportunist, took the opportunity to respond by using the toy gun she had in her hand, and “gunned” them down where she stood. They ran away, across my Aunt’s lawn. She was mortified. My mom and I laughed and laughed until our sides hurt.

I’m her oldest child (I have a younger half-brother, Andrew) and one she raised largely as a single mother. To be a single mother is one of life’s greatest challenges – and she rose to the occasion. To this I owe her a debt of gratitude that I will never be able to repay. I am glad that she successfully remarried – to a man that is good to her and loves her very much.

Jane has taught me much over the years. She doesn’t give up – even when things look impossibly bad. She cares more than she knows how to handle – and at times this overwhelms her. She is fiercely loyal, and she doesn’t always know when to give up on someone who has hurt her or let her down. Jane makes sure I stand up for myself when I get too carried away, and she gets on my case when I’m not taking enough care of myself. She also never gives up on trying to teach me how to iron, or the importance of it. Best of luck on that one, Mom. I think you are fighting a losing battle.

Her best piece of advice: “Naomi, never leave the house without your gun loaded.”

My mom understands me more than I care to admit, always tells me she loves me when I need to hear it (and even when I don’t), and is my biggest fan.

Thank you, Mom. I love you. Today is your day. Enjoy it. And forget about cleaning the house, for just one day.