With My Mother
My mom is one of those cool, fun moms. Our house was the house that our friends gathered at when we really wanted to have a good time. She'd make us lunch, we'd sit at our kid-size table, and laugh at nonsense. And then when the friends had gone, my mom continued to entertain my younger brother and I with Double Dare obstacle courses throughout our 900 square foot apartment. Or bringing our inflatable pool inside the house when we wanted to swim and it was raining outside (just don't ask her how she got rid of the water once we were done). Or crushing up aspirin to look like drugs for when my Grandma went snooping through my purse while babysitting (excellent Mom behavior there). We were allowed to be kids. We were allowed to have fun.
As I was growing up, we knew that my mom was The Mom. But we also knew that she had the capability to be our friend when that's what we needed. Don't get me wrong, she basically carried a wooden spoon in a holster on her belt, and there were plenty of "I Hate You's" that we ridiculously threw at her on occasion, but she didn't stifle us and she didn't expect us to be mini-adults. She wanted us to be kids.
I've mentioned before that my mom has been a single mom for most of our lives. She raised my brother and I with very, very little help from my father after they divorced when I was four. She managed to be both mother and father while holding down a full-time job and not letting us want for anything. And that includes having someone to rely on and trust when we most needed it.
I've gone to my mom for everything in my life. I've gone to her when I've had my heart broken. I've gone to her when I've screwed up. I've gone to her when I had something to celebrate. And each time, she didn't judge me. She simply gave me a hug and told me she loved me.
She has shown me exactly what unconditional love means. She has shown me how to be a parent. She has given me the gift of love, and has shown me how to give it in return. I model my own mom-behavior after her. I cherish the fact that we have many of the same quirks. I laugh when I discover that yet another of my mannerisms comes from her. She is my mom, but she is so much more than that.
So Mom, on this Mother's Day, I want you to know what you mean to me. I want you to know that you are the reason I am the person I am (good or bad). I want you to know that I look up to you. I want you to know that I think you're beautiful (inside and out). I want you to know that my life with you has been perfect. I want you to know that these mashed potatoes are so creamy.
Beep, beep, Mama.