In honor of this upcoming Mother’s Day and due to seeing a fellow blogger do a similar post I wanted to write about my mom.
This is her. And me.
She’s the shorter, older one.
in case some of you have poor reasoning skills
I owe everything I am to my mother.
Everything in her (and in my father) wanted a daughter.
Along came me
Cue the harps and angels singing because I’m clearly a miracle baby.
Also I don’t actually know if I’ve talked about my medical issues when I was 1 but yes, ok. Miracle baby.
As a teenager, the last thing I wanted to be was compared to my mom.
oh my gosh, you look just like her
wow, you sound just like your mom
you two are so similar
As a teenager, I told my mom I hated her more times than I can count.
I think back on it and laugh, and kinda cry because through those crazy years, the one constant was my family.
I’m 25 now (I know I know, how many times do I have to say I’m 25? EVERY BLOG POST OK? GET OVER IT.) and I can’t go more than a few days without talking to my mom. If I don’t see her every couple weeks, I don’t feel like myself.
Everything about me I owe to her:
My amazing good looks hold the laughter
My sense of determination
My feeling that I can do anything or be anyone I want to be
My love for other people
My need to help people through their struggles. To be there for someone.
My sense of humor
Those are things I wouldn’t trade. Not now. Not ever. Not even for a billion dollars. Well, maybe for a billion dollars.
She refers to herself as sweetums. I refer to her as crazy. We laugh because we know we’re both crazy. The best kind of crazy.
One time I asked what I should do with my life because when I need advice I go to her.
My head was spinning with grad school, getting my license for counseling, taking a volunteer trip.
I asked her what I should do. Where I should go.
She said to me why don’t you do all three?
And just like that, solved another life problem.
She makes it look easy. She compliments me when I tell her exactly what I need to here. Like she doesn’t realize that I am who I am because of her. I know what I know, I believe what I believe in large part because of who she is.
When people tell me we’re alike now, I smile. Nod. And respond yes we are, but she’s the crazier one.
Because I won’t be out done.
I probably got that from her too.
I hope you have a mom you’re proud of and if not, I hope you are or are married to a mom you’re proud of. Because it is the best feeling.