Many Hats Mom (A Mother’s Day Tribute)


            As some of you know, I’ve considered myself a writer for many years, but I’ve never really purposed to follow a discipline of writing on a consistent basis since college days as a student of journalism.  In recent years it’s more conveniently been:  when the inspiration strikes, when there’s a special event needing promotion, or on occasions when “venting” seemed the only way to work through a complexity. 

            Like my dad, I’ve always been a lover of hats—different hats for different occasions or jobs—but I’ve seldom indulged myself in a desire to wear them more.  It was a recent Kentucky Derby viewing that reminded me of how hats play a role in tradition and defining our identities.

            Thus, “Many Hats Mom” was chosen as my personal blog “handle” or “avatar”, because I consider one of the most defining roles in life to be when you become a mother (or parent).    Those so privileged have perspectives on life forever transformed.  It opens up a whole world of roles and identities that may have been missed if the role of parent had not been part of a personal journey.

            For those of you looking for summer reads— not too long, not too time consuming in a season where leisure and family are more highly valued—- I invite you to follow and comment as you would on the essays and prose I’ll be sharing.

I promise to offer at least one thought-provoking read a week, if not more often, depending on how my current motivation level ebbs or flows! (Personal friends are free to “poke” me mercilessly if I fall below that modest weekly standard!)

            Welcome to the blog of “Many Hats Mom: A Coming of Age Journey for One More-than-Middle-Aged Mom” :     


The following was written many years ago when I was a teenager, trying to show my mom how much she meant to me.  Now she is a great grandmother, but the none-the-less a Mother of great worth:


An Eternal Moment Maker (Mom)

Lately I’ve been wondering

At all the thoughts and smells

Reminding me of times long past

In sunken memory wells;

Each moment greets another

With impressions well-instilled

And make me think:

How wonderful to use one’s mother-skill.


Mine would have been a childhood lost

Without such things at little cost

As boots in the snow, tunneling ‘round

Every bank in our backyard town;

Climbing up doorways, sock-sliding down halls,

Back-bending over, sneaking handstands on walls;

Fire-fly jars—night lights with names,

Watching rain through garage door frames;

Easter rabbits and marshmallow chicks, or

The rustling of stockings to the clock’s “tick, Tick”.


Many times she heard me cry

And couldn’t tell the reasons why,

But I thank her for listening without reprimand—

Her animal pancakes made everything grand!

Sometimes she’d mow mazes in which to stand,

Or put mattresses out under summer stars.


So now, these Eternal Moments are mine

 Someday to pass them


To mine.


Karen Weber @ 1972

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