Thank Heaven for Southern Mamas

My dental hygienist told me last week that, having been born and raised in Florida (which she freely admitted is geographically in the South but by no means Southern), she was not accustomed to hearing "sir" and "ma'am" until she moved away to more gentile parts for college. She said she is still uncomfortable hearing or being addressed this way, as it was just not part of her upbringing.

I started thinking on the way home: thank goodness sir and ma'am were woven into the fabric of my being. I am a full-fledged adult (as much as I dislike admitting it much of the time), and I still refer to older people that way, as a sign of respect. I love hearing it--so long as it is directed at other people, since I am far too young (ahem) to be the recipient at this point. It also started me thinking about the other things Southern mamas instill in their children that we sometimes take for granted.

Let me begin with the ways we behave in public, which do not include chewing gum or (heaven forbid) crying. Gum and emotion are reserved for the privacy of home, as I have been reminded many times over the years. Public places such as the grocery store or your wedding day do not qualify for tears or smacking on Hubba Bubba.

Before Sara Blakely and the good Lord blessed us with Spanx, we were taught that when in doubt, wear a slip. Oh, how I hated that old-fashioned undergarment, but dutifully wore one anyway, and now I'm thankful: think of all the Hollywood wardrobe malfunctions that could have been avoided if those women had Southern mothers to make sure they had the modesty insurance provided by a slip. Why, a slip could have changed Janet Jackson's Super Bowl halftime performance for all of eternity.

At least a slip was somewhat comfortable, not that comfort is a consideration for Southern women. Mamas just go ahead and let their daughters know as soon as they are old enough to ask about home perms and mustache waxing that beauty is pain. You know you are dressed to the nines if your feet are screaming and even your overteased hair hurts, but that's the price you pay if you want to turn heads. If you have a Southern mama, you know that hearing, "I bet those shoes are comfortable" is not a compliment.

My beautiful mom and I, primped for dinner during a trip to Paris in 2008.

Getting all dolled up was a quintessential part of the next fundamental of a good Southern upbringing: church on Sunday (or Wednesday for family night, for that matter) was a foregone conclusion. We never needed to ask if we were going, because our clothes, including hair bows, tights, and shoes, were all planned and laid out the night before in an attempt to limit any kind of Sunday morning before-church chaos. I slept in pink sponge rollers every Saturday night of my life until hot rollers became my new norm. We had a designated pew in which we always sat, and it was understood that missing church services meant you were sick--so sick that you better not ask to do anything else on Sunday if you had not made it to Sunday School and morning worship.

One of the most widespread Southern mantras we are all taught is that presentation is key: from the way we dress, decorate our homes. or present the food at a dinner party, God is in the details. The little things are what really make you stand out, and making everything look neat and pulled together makes all the difference. Putting one's best foot forward is a cornerstone of how Southerners live their lives. Now, pass the monogrammed cocktail napkins, would you?

The hostess with the mostest and her so-good-it's-deadly "punchbowl cake." 
How's that for presentation?

Growing up with Southern mamas, we know that certain occasions call for special meals. It goes without saying that there will be red velvet cake at Christmas, ham and deviled eggs for Easter, and some kind of congealed (read: Jell-O) salad served on a lettuce leaf to accompany any and all of these occasion celebrations. Well, that or half a pear with a dollop of mayonnaise and some cheddar cheese on top. The house wine, naturally, is sweet tea.

Half a canned pear, with a dollop of mayonnaise, a sprinkle of sharp cheddar, and (if you're really feeling fancy) a maraschino cherry. A Southern staple.

Southern mamas also know more than their share about sacrifice. These are the women who would gladly spend $2,000 on a pageant dress for their daughter, but wear Walmart clothes themselves and organize yard sales to pay the bills. These mamas aren't afraid to learn how to camp when their boys are in Scouts, spend their Saturdays cheering on less-than-stellar athletic efforts, and wear jewelry made from dried pasta by their preschooler without an ounce of embarrassment. Southern mamas are the women who literally bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan, y'all.

This Mother's Day, raise a glass of sweet tea and toast to the heavens for giving you a Southern mama. Take some time to celebrate the women who taught us to put on some color, hold your shoulders back, quit acting ugly, and who don't even need words because they can stop us all in our tracks simply with A Look. I'm fairly certain our carefully coiffed Southern mamas and their teachings put the pearls in the saying "pearls of wisdom." Thank heaven.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas out there, Southern and otherwise!
You are, to borrow one of your own catchphrases, "as good as gold."