On Saturday, my mom celebrated her 95th birthday and had a new story for Derek and me.
I told her that we’d be celebrating our 40th anniversary on Sunday, and she nodded.
“Yep, you married the boy your dad and I picked out for you.”
This was news to us. Derek seemed pretty confident that I’d picked him out and then brought him home to meet the folks. Or vice versa. But when interacting with someone who has Alzheimer’s, it’s best to go with the flow.
“Why did you choose him for me?” I asked.
“Oh, because he was so nice and so quiet,” Mom replied.
Also, news to us since Derek hasn’t been quiet since he took his first breath.
Though she seems frailer every week and now uses a wheelchair to travel outside her room, she still has lots to add to my #thingsmymomsays collection. Here’s a sampling I’ve collected over the years.
April 2019
I asked Mom if her birthday balloon was still floating.
“Yeah, it’s an automatic balloon. I don’t have to do anything. I just watch it, and every so often it turns around.”
November 2020
Today, Mom recalled when her Sunday school teacher, Grandma Hines, taught them about hell.
“She made a figure out of a picture from a catalog and lit him on fire,” said Mom. “She told us that’s what hell was like, only the fire never goes out.”
And that pretty much explains all you need to know about my mom – and my childhood.
March 2021
Every time I see her, she says, “How come you’re taller than me now? I was always taller than you!”
I assured her the only growth spurt I had was COVID pounds.
She shrugged.
“Must be gravity.”
August 2021
Told Mom they were serving smoked ham for dinner in the dining room.
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke,” she replied.
October 2021
This afternoon, I decorated Mom’s place for fall. I mentioned that she might want to put away her white shoes.
“At least I’m wearing shoes,” she said, pointing at my bare tootsies in my flip-flops.
“I’m getting a pedicure this afternoon,” I explained.
“Well, you’d better put some socks on when you’re done, or you’re going to catch pneumonia!”
As my sons would say, “Moms are always momming.”
January 2022
Mom broke another tooth – this one close to the front. “I’m falling apart in bits and pieces,” she said. “I just wish the Lord would take all my pieces at once!”
January 2024
Asked Mom how her trip to the doctor went.
“I didn’t trip at the doctor’s, so that was good.”
November 2024
Called to tell her Happy Thanksgiving and asked how she was feeling.
“Pretty mean,” she said.
I think that’s going to be my standard response to how are you.
April 2025
I brought Mom deodorant and toothpaste.
“Oh, honey! You’re going to get me in trouble!” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I’m going to smell good and have fresh breath. There’s a lot of old men around here, you know!”
November 2025
Today, I decorated Mom’s room for Christmas. The water in her musical snow globe has grown dark and discolored. You can’t see the snow falling or the angel inside of it. I turned the key, and the notes of “Angels We Have Heard on High” played.
“Should we throw this away?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“You can’t throw away something that still sings.”
I blinked back tears and placed the snow globe on her bookshelf.
March 2026
This week, I wanted to capture a video of her thoughts on turning 95, but instead, she wanted to tell me how much she loved me, my kids and her great-grandchildren.
“I love Cindy, cuz she’s my baby,” she said as I filmed her with my phone.
“I’m a pretty old baby,” I replied.
“Yeah,” said Mom. (Note, she didn’t disagree), “I don’t know how I managed to get so old, Cindy.”
“I think you just kept waking up every day.”
“I don’t know. Now, I look in the mirror and think who is that old lady, and who let her in?”
She’s not just any “old lady,” she’s my mom, and as long as she’s here, I’ll always be her baby girl.
Cindy Hval 