Parrot Stew Compromise?

Now, here's a lady who has suffered many things in life. She is a mother, a true one.
She grew up in the poverty of dirt floors and mud bricks for walls.
By the age of 12-13, her memory isn't perfect anymore, she was living in the home of a blind woman as a full-time maid.
What is funny, to me, her daughter, is that this home had a 'talking parrot.'
Her first attempt at making a cake resulted in utter catastrophe. She didn't know how to make a cake and she didn't have a recipe... she just made an attempt... it didn't turn out and I think she said, the stupid parrot seemed capable of 'ratting her out.' She threatened the parrot with a cake batter enema if he squawked even one word.
I'm surprised her next dish wasn't 'Parrot Stew.'
She should have been snuggled in her own home, with her parents providing a secure environment for her.
She should have been allowed to go to school past grade 6 but she is a girl... had she been a boy, she would have been in school for two more privileged years... graduating with a solid grade 8 education.
She got married and gave birth to 8 children.
Choices were a luxury she could not afford until she was around the age of 50. All of her children had married and moved out of the home by then, except the youngest son, and how she doted on that one and finally allowed herself to have a fun relationship with him.
It is ironic to me that the meaning of her name is 'sun ray' or 'shining light' for if you were to ask any of her 8 children, you may not get a character reference that sounds quite like that.
As her seventh child, I grew up spoiled... by the definition of her household.
I was allowed to choose which dishes I wished to dry every night after dinner.
I always chose cutlery. Now, when I think back, it is likely because my 4, 5, 6, an 7 year old hands weren't big enough to dry larger dishes.
It is a bit of an irony to me, as well, that I was allowed to experiment with the baking of cookies by the age of 8. Her kitchen was a bit like the Holy Grail during those years. If you were to go in there, you'd better leave it spotless. There was no latitude for compromise in that regard.

On Christmas Day, I telephoned my folks' home and had a little conversation with her. I asked if any other children had called that day to wish them a Merry Christmas.
She said, "No," quite emphatically.
I suggested that she could call them if she and my Dad were lonely.
She replied, "That's the kids' job!"
I sighed and tried again, "You could call them if you wished to talk to them, Mom."
"Yah?" She said with a question but still that hint of stubbornness.
I tried hard to convince her but I don't think I succeeded.
She is my mother and I accept her as she is, knowing, maybe, in the first half of her life she made enough changes so that she just isn't required to make any more in this half.
Or maybe, I spoil her now as she has rarely been spoiled by anyone.
P.S. She allowed me to tie this Christmas scarf around her neck and snap a picture of her.
Scarf made by Jillian.
Look of tolerating attitude- compliments of Mom.