Today is Mother's day. I've been thinking about my blog all week. I knew I wanted it to be a special one...something to blow you away and make you understand just how wonderful my mom is. But as it turns out, the words that I have in my vocabulary aren't even close to adequate to make that description. I guess I'm discovering that it's more something that I just know...from all the little things she does for us...than I can actually describe.
There's a million little reasons why she's the best mom ever. Like...when she makes me a skirt, she always puts pockets in it...even if the pattern doesn't call for pockets...because she knows I like pockets. And when she makes Potato Soup that she knows Adam would rather die than eat, she always makes sure she has a can of Chicken Noodle just for him. And when she sees a blouse in a size -2 (or whatever it is Heather sickeningly wears), she'll make sure she tells her about it because she knows how hard it is to find -2 size clothes.
At Christmas the house is always festive and warm and cozy because mom spends days putting up decorations for us, even though she vows every year she's not going to do it again. I mean, she even still puts up the lights on the balcony - even after the year the window she had to climb through shut on her and she had to jump off the roof onto the little Japanese Maple below because nobody in the house knew she was trapped out there. And every Thanksgiving she puts up with a turkey that looks like it has the mange because her kids love to eat all the skin off of it as soon as it comes out of the oven. And every 4th of July, "Do you know how much it costs to buy all those ingredients for homemade ice cream??" (That's her talking) But yes...she does it anyway. Even after the year we all complained because she changed the recipe...she still makes it for us. (But Thank God she went back to the old recipe!)
She spent all of Adam's high school career sitting through snow, sleet, hail, rain, wind, and burning sun to watch him play ball (sometimes all at the same game!) She'll give Heather a call at work to tell her to make sure to stop by on her way home because she's got sauerkraut and cornbread cooking. On nights when I have to work until 6 or 7 or 8, she'll take the time to make me some eggs and bacon and toast...even though she just got the kitchen cleaned up from her own supper.
She's not afraid to dress up like a gypsy and run around the backyard with a tambourine in her hand shouting "Hooray for Bongo!!" at the top of her lungs to entertain friends who have helped her take care of the house since Dad passed. Or host a hoe-down for son's 16th birthday with all his friends. Or take the time to make him a leprechaun suit (complete with special little shoes) so he could be the Lucky Charms guy for "cereal night" at the local basketball game. Of course, there's also the issue of when she made the pumpkin costume for me for Halloween that I could barely move around in, but I'm not sure that one really works in her favor, so I'll let that one alone...
I could go on and on. But in the end, what it boils down to is this...
A lot of people dream and fantasize about meeting some great person someday. Maybe a famous ball player, singer or celebrity that they consider to be their hero.
I don't have to dream about that. I know my hero personally already.
I call her "Mom".
(Love you Mooomaw!)
There's a million little reasons why she's the best mom ever. Like...when she makes me a skirt, she always puts pockets in it...even if the pattern doesn't call for pockets...because she knows I like pockets. And when she makes Potato Soup that she knows Adam would rather die than eat, she always makes sure she has a can of Chicken Noodle just for him. And when she sees a blouse in a size -2 (or whatever it is Heather sickeningly wears), she'll make sure she tells her about it because she knows how hard it is to find -2 size clothes.
At Christmas the house is always festive and warm and cozy because mom spends days putting up decorations for us, even though she vows every year she's not going to do it again. I mean, she even still puts up the lights on the balcony - even after the year the window she had to climb through shut on her and she had to jump off the roof onto the little Japanese Maple below because nobody in the house knew she was trapped out there. And every Thanksgiving she puts up with a turkey that looks like it has the mange because her kids love to eat all the skin off of it as soon as it comes out of the oven. And every 4th of July, "Do you know how much it costs to buy all those ingredients for homemade ice cream??" (That's her talking) But yes...she does it anyway. Even after the year we all complained because she changed the recipe...she still makes it for us. (But Thank God she went back to the old recipe!)
She spent all of Adam's high school career sitting through snow, sleet, hail, rain, wind, and burning sun to watch him play ball (sometimes all at the same game!) She'll give Heather a call at work to tell her to make sure to stop by on her way home because she's got sauerkraut and cornbread cooking. On nights when I have to work until 6 or 7 or 8, she'll take the time to make me some eggs and bacon and toast...even though she just got the kitchen cleaned up from her own supper.
She's not afraid to dress up like a gypsy and run around the backyard with a tambourine in her hand shouting "Hooray for Bongo!!" at the top of her lungs to entertain friends who have helped her take care of the house since Dad passed. Or host a hoe-down for son's 16th birthday with all his friends. Or take the time to make him a leprechaun suit (complete with special little shoes) so he could be the Lucky Charms guy for "cereal night" at the local basketball game. Of course, there's also the issue of when she made the pumpkin costume for me for Halloween that I could barely move around in, but I'm not sure that one really works in her favor, so I'll let that one alone...
I could go on and on. But in the end, what it boils down to is this...
A lot of people dream and fantasize about meeting some great person someday. Maybe a famous ball player, singer or celebrity that they consider to be their hero.
I don't have to dream about that. I know my hero personally already.
I call her "Mom".
(Love you Mooomaw!)
Becky...this is good. I don't know what else to say.
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