Patricia McLaughlin wrote in her column in the Tribune today, "Mothers can be so annoying....until you don't have one." She wrote about the quirkiness of mothers - "one day you're a 9-pound handful that can't do anything but eat, sleep, cry, soil its diapers and spit up all over its clean onsie. And minutes later, or so it may seem to your mother, you're a grown-up with a house, career and family of your own and all sorts of cockeyed ideas about how things ought to be and done. For years and years, it's your mother's job to worry about you: homework, eating right, brushing your teeth, hanging out with the wrong crowd, etc How can she stop just because you've grown up?" When I was a little girl my mother told me what to wear, what to do in my leisure time (embroidery, not read), who to play with, how often to go to Confession. She didn't know how to tell me about female things, just showed me a sanitary napkin and said "you'll have to wear these every month, once a month, for the rest of your life." She wasn't the first to tell me to wear deodorant, nor how babies were made. She was a great cook, but never showed me how to bake a pie. She was stoic, not affectionate, but I did see her cry once in awhile. She had a tenderness that came out in her actions, not words. She showed her love by doing the things she did well - baking, sewing, quilting, cleaning!! Oh my how I appreciated her work to help me clean my house in Clarkston, both Clarkston houses - the one on 7th Street and then in 2002, the one on Chestnut Street. I was 40 years old and she spent 3 days helping clean my house during the day, then washing windows and weeding the flower beds in the evening.