Kat's Rambling Mind

For those of you who don’t already know, Miss Janice is my mother. (Well, our mother, since I do have siblings. But for purposes related to this post, my mother.) I’d like to introduce her to all of you, since she’s definitely one of a kind. She was married to my father Richard for 63 years, and the two of them spent very little time apart throughout their marriage. When I say very little, I mean maybe six or seven nights apart in all those years. They were practically joined at the hip; when you saw one, you usually saw the other. Daddy (or Pops, as I sometimes called him) passed away in 2021.

I came to live with my parents in 2016; they were gracious enough to take me in when I needed a place to live, plus they were coming to an age where they could use a little help around the place. So it worked out, and I’m here to tell y’all, if you’ve never stayed an extended period of time with your parents and/or lived with them as an adult, it’s an experience.

But back to Miss Janice. I call her Miss Janice because my mother is, and always has been, a princess, and “Your Highness” just sounds so formal. All joking aside, she was an only child, and for a while she was also the only grandchild and niece as well, at least on her mother’s side of the family. And so, she was treated like a princess, and I tease her all the time about being spoiled. In high school, she was the class president and the homecoming queen, and in the fabulous ’50s that was a big deal, and a huge source of pride for my grandparents. Of course, the spoiling only continued once she married my father, and he really excelled in that field. Generally, whenever I joke around about her diva-ness, she simply states that if she’s spoiled, it was only because she deserved to be! Mind you, she says that with a devilish wink.



However, for all the teasing and all the jokes, Miss Janice is a sweetheart. She’s also as tough as old hickory. She’s been through a lot in her 84 years (at the time of this post). She always worked full-time when we were growing up, and it was only after I became an adult that I realized what a feat it is to work full-time and raise kids. Parents of the world, I salute you.

Of course, being roommates as one older lady and a slightly less older broad is both a challenge and a hoot, depending on what’s going on. We argue with each other, laugh at each other, and laugh with each other. It’s almost as if the tables have turned a little; someone asked me today if I was keeping her out of trouble, and I told him it was impossible because she won’t mind me.

Just last night, I went flying down the stairs because she called for me and I thought something was wrong; turns out she just wanted me to check the potatoes to see if they were done. I likened this incident to a test of the Emergency Broadcast System; it was only a test, and if there were a true emergency, I would be given further instructions.

Then there was the Great Icemaker War of 2019. My mother was trying to slowly drive me insane by going behind me and switching off the icemaker, knowing full well that I use a lot of ice. I couldn’t figure out why; she didn’t even use ice. I like for the ice bin to be full at all times, but she was convinced we were going to have an ice disaster of Titanic proportions if the ice were allowed to fill the bin all willy-nilly. I assured her we would not. I also felt that being in my mid-50s and wanting unlimited ice was not a lot to ask.

Well, one night when I was trying to assure her that I was indeed trustworthy and responsible enough to manage our household ice production efficiently, she told me that she knew I was just going to come behind her and turn it back on, SO THAT’S WHY SHE WAS SWITCHING IT OFF. Just to give me something to do, I guess. I still laugh about that. Miss Janice can be downright diabolical!

I later retaliated with the Toaster Skirmish of 2020. Our toaster sits on the kitchen counter, parallel to the refrigerator. I decided one night just to see what would happen if I moved it a little. So, I turned it so that it was perpendicular to the fridge, just to see if she would notice. This went on for weeks; she would turn the toaster one way, and I would walk through and turn it the other way. I could hear her grunt with disgust as she turned it back to “her way”.

Finally, she yelled up the staircase and asked, “ARE YOU MOVING THE TOASTER?”.

“YES!”, I replied triumphantly, as I walked to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Well, WHY?!”, she asked.

“REMEMBER THE ICEMAKER?”, I hollered. I was in this for the long game, people.

“You little jackass! STOP IT!”, she exclaimed, and tried to stifle her laughter. The two of us definitely enjoy picking at each other, it seems.

We also share a love of baseball and football, and although Miss Janice likes baseball, she also loves…and I mean LOVES…football. College football is her absolute passion in the fall, and it’s not much of an exaggeration to call her the World’s Biggest Auburn Fan. She gets so excited watching the games that it’s fun to watch her. She’ll yell at the coaches, the refs, and the players, and has even been known to jump and start coaching in the middle of the living room.



Naturally, not everything has been roses and bon-bons. Three births, two of which were difficult. Some surgeries. A couple of cancer scares that turned out to be benign, thank God. Dad was diagnosed with debilitating rheumatoid arthritis in 1977 at the age of 40, and Mama remained his sole caretaker until he passed in 2021. She refused to let him give up, and that played a large part in how he handled his diagnosis.

I try to pet her a little more since Pops is gone now, though. I can tell the grief gets to her some days, although she keeps a stiff upper lip. She could have fallen into despair or depression after she lost him, but not Miss Janice. She dries her eyes, raises her chin, and gets on with the day. She gets up and dressed every day, and makes her rounds around town. I see people all the time who tell me how sweet she is, or that they saw her at church, or the grocery store, or Walmart. They’re amazed to learn her age, and that she still drives herself around town.



And so that’s just a little about Miss Janice, my beautiful, loving, stubborn mother. I can say without an ounce of doubt that I was the child that gave her the most grief, but hopefully our relationship has reached a different season in life, one where we’re mother and daughter, but also friends and cohorts. I’m sure to be posting more about her in the future, so stick around. We’re always up to something around here!