Author Archives: kristipetersenschoonover
A Motherless Daughter’s Gratitude on Mother’s Day
For those out there missing their moms, I thought—as a woman who no longer has hers—I’d share a little of my own journey with you in the hopes it’ll bring some of you comfort, or perhaps give you a new perspective. And if you’ve not read the book Motherless Daughters, definitely pick that up. You’ll find in its pages voices who feel just like you, and that’s comforting, too.
Also, all the photos of my mom in this post are pre-cancer. She’d be horrified if the few photos we had of her looking that bad were on public display (it’s why we have so few pictures of her after she got sick in the first place).
♥

Me, Mom, and that little turd in blue is my brother. Don’t ask me why I’m making a fish face in this picture. I have no idea. This is 1974. I had just turned three.
Many motherless people, especially motherless daughters, have a rough time on Mother’s Day. But every Mother’s Day for the past three decades, all I’ve ever thought is, “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore.”
I used to think this made me a horrible person. How can I just sit here and be relieved that I don’t have to participate in this? For years, I felt like there was either something deeply psychologically wrong with me, or that I was just an incredibly selfish, unempathetic person.
Then I figured it out. Mom got sick when I was eight and underwent a long battle with cancer, ending in her death when I was fifteen. She was horrendously sick during those years, and despite the fact that we were told just pray really hard and be really good and Jesus will save her, I knew better. I think we all did. Mother’s Days, when she was alive, were torture to watch. I remember giving her presents and making her favorite meal and thinking, ‘is this the last Mother’s Day?’ They were joyless, terrifying, and sometimes ruined because she was just too sick. Mother’s Days in our house were, in short, totally traumatizing. It was a bunch of people in a room pretending we all didn’t see the giant elephant while we plastered on our fake smiles—Mom included. I can see in old Mother’s Day pictures how absolutely tortured and depressed she was, trying to put on a show for everyone else. Her eyes hold nothing but pain.
There was nothing psychologically wrong with me in feeling relieved. Good Lord, there would probably be something more wrong with me if I didn’t.
Do I miss her? Of course. Read the rest of this entry
HAPPY EASTER!
This baby bunny cake wishes you and yours a very happy Easter (if that’s what you celebrate). If you don’t, then he wishes you a joyous Sunday and a refreshing spring!
Krissi, Charles, Nathan, and Mikey the cat
Help my friend Kim’s family
Jim Morrison wrote that “Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven’s claws.” What he meant was that when someone dies, that person suddenly becomes a saint. Maybe it’s the old superstition that it’s not wise to speak ill of the dead, or maybe it’s just that those who loved that person didn’t care about his or her faults. I, for one, expect whoever’s left when I’m dead to get up and tell the truth. If you say “I loved life” and was “the sweetest person who ever lived” I will haunt you.
That said, one of my high school classmates, Kimberly (Scozzafava) Salmon, passed away yesterday. I didn’t know her as well as many others did, but I can honestly say she WAS one of those people who should be remembered as someone who loved her life—even though she faced more incomprehensible, massive struggles than most people I know—and truly was one of the sweetest people who ever lived.
Every time I saw a Facebook post in which she was facing a new challenge, she was positive and cheerful. And yeah—you can say all you want about how we “curate” ourselves online, but that just wasn’t the case with her. That kind of fake curating you can see in a person’s eyes if you look hard enough. Her eyes were never sad or angry in those photos. Her eyes, no matter what, even in hospital pictures, were full of mischievous spirit, a rare joy. She impressed me, and it was always a reminder that I have absolutely nothing to bitch about. Anytime I needed a good wake-up call because I was whining about something lame—particularly a minor health issue—I went over to her page and was given my lesson on grace, dignity, and gratitude.
My only regret is that I didn’t really get to know her better, but I did know her well enough to understand that she really was grateful for her life. She loved her children, she was thrilled to be a grandmother, and she loved people. She loved being with people. Genuinely. And after one minute in her presence, you were no longer a stranger—you were loved.
She is now at peace in heaven, but her sons have indicated there is no money for a funeral—let alone laying her to rest in a pink casket, which was one of her last wishes. If that’s what she wanted, then that’s what she should have. If any of my readers, on this Easter weekend, feels called to help, here is the GoFundMe page: https://gofund.me/6f43d9a6
Thanks, Kim. I’ll raise a glass with you again when I get to the other side.
I love my ANGRY MAMA!
It’s been such a crazy couple of months I sorta fell behind on everything—including housework (NO ONE is to come into my home until I get this place under control). Anyway…the first step in getting this place back on track—other than, of course, a nice big trip to Bath & Body Works to replenish my spring wallflowers and candles, first things first!—was to deep clean the microwave.
The best and easiest way to clean the microwave is to Read the rest of this entry