It’s Mother’s Day. The day for delivering saccharine poetry written on glittery, pastel greeting cards and carnations to the person who squeezed you out of their most sacred of lady bits. I didn’t send my mom a card this year. In fact, I rarely remember to send anyone a card for anything. I have trouble remembering my own anniversary, and as we speak, there is a package in my car that is filled with presents for baby nephew’s birthday (which is today — I am a very bad auntie) that I’ve been forgetting to mail for, like, three weeks. I’m not good at this is my point. But, here’s the thing, though. It is in my power to honor my mom anyway. Like Elton John singing that his gift is his song — my gift is my blog and, Mom, this blog post is for you.
Let me tell you all about my mom. She’s the best mom in the world. I know you’re supposed to say that, and all of you do, but you should all know that you are mistaken. My mom is, in fact, the best mom in the world. No matter what I’ve done in my life, from being a rebellious teenage mini-bitch to dancing the burly-q, my mom has loved me and encouraged me every step of the way. She made sure that I always, always knew that she loved me more than anyone and believed that I could do anything I ever wanted. Why am I writing that in past tense? She just told me that yesterday. My mom is just as proud of me for stripping to a Bon Jovi song as she was when I graduated college. She believes in me, she listens to me, she loves me and that’s just the best.
My mom is a fantastic cook. She laughs with her whole body. She has zen-like patience with children; she’s like the baby whisperer. Her nails are always — and I mean always — perfectly manicured. Her hair is sometimes big. She loves tacky flip flops.
She’s a rabid Alabama football fan (her personal bathroom is decorated completely in Roll Tide colors.) She’s far more clever and witty than people give her credit for. She is beautiful. And kind. And open-minded and respectful of other’s opinions and lifestyle choices. Her house is insanely clean all the time. And when she visits, she can’t repress the urge to clean mine. My dog loves her and always recognizes her. She sings when she’s happy even if she doesn’t know the words (a habit that I inherited.) She has a great rack (which I did not inherit, sadly.) She is proud and sassy, and sometimes fiery tempered, and fun and gracious. She will feed you, and then feed you some more, if you step into her home. I love her. And I hope to be like her when I grow up.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!!!!