My mom was nicknamed Cynthia by my brother when we were in elementary school. When she did something that annoyed him, he’d put his hands on his hips and say in a June Cleaver tone, “Cynthia!” If you aren’t laughing at the thought of a blond little boy channeling 1950s TV, I guess you had to be there. It is still a silly joke in our family today and I’m pretty sure it still gets my mom’s feathers ruffled.
When he was in college, Cody started speaking like a rapper — logically. So, Mom became Moms. To his horror, she adopted this and still signs most email and any other correspondence to her children with the bizarre moniker. I suppose she learned in that time that if you can beat them, join them.
Our matriarch is a quilter, as I’ve mentioned a thousand or so times before. She recently showed at a quilt exhibit in San Antonio and came home with a chest full of ribbons. She sent the photos yesterday and I have to say, I’m pretty darn proud of the Moms.
These included her “Dear Jane” quilt, which I’ve been promised. I am so very happy to have this quilt one day. It is an heirloom item, along with a book of stories about our family and what was happening in the world when she made each square.
Good work Cynthia MOMS!