by Jesse Creedero

Created on: May 28, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

By far, and without a doubt, the woman that I admire the most is my mom. When I think of all the things my mom endure through her life, I admire her strength, determination, and her dedication to her family. My mom's family name means "firm of purpose," and she lived up to her family name.

My mom and I would spend nights awake with insomnia, and we would sit for hours and talk about her life. Because of my insomnia, which obviously I inherited from mom, I had the opportunity to know my mom and the life she lead, and I cherish those stolen moments more than ever now that she is living in heaven.

We would sit up until four in the morning drinking tea at the kitchen table, talking about everything under the sun. My mom told me stories about when she and my dad first got married and how difficult it was to have three children under the age of two because she had twin boys and a girl. She'd make me laugh and say, "Those kids were crazy. They were constantly reaching inside their diapers throwing crap all over each other. The only way I could get them to settle down was to give them newspaper and have them tear it up into little pieces of paper. Then your father had the nerve to come home and say,'Honey, look at the mess the kids are making. Don't let them do that.'"

She told me, "Little did he know the kind of mess he would have to come home to if I didn't do that. Besides, I have a weak stomach, he would be the one coming home to clean it, not me." She'd just laugh at the thought of my dad having to come home to that dirty job.

I'd ask her, "Mom, what was you're wedding like?"

She told me, "Jeanne, it was beautiful. Your father and I paid for it because our families couldn't afford a wedding for us. So we served coffee and cookies afterward, but your grandmother and your father's sisters wore black to my wedding."

I said, "Black? Why?"

She told me, "Because I wasn't good enough for your father. I'm not Italian, you know. Your grandmother didn't like me because she thought I was snooty."

"Snooty?"

"Yeah, can you believe that? One time I went to their house and your grandmother made this soup, and I guess because their from the old country, they don't believe in throwing any part of the chicken away. They offered me some soup, so I said, 'Don't get up, I can get it.' So when I picked up the lid off the pot, there was a chicken head with eyes looking back at me and feet sticking out of it. I almost threw up right there. After that, your grandmother didn't like me anymore.

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