Sunday, May 13, 2012


To My Mama on Mother's Day,

My Mother is the epitome of the word. When I was growing up she made sure that my brother and I had the perfect childhood. And we did. She was a June Cleaver type, except with an edge. Dinner was on the table at 6:00- Always. She would take me shopping for cute new clothes for no reason, and then yell at my principal when he called to tell her I was dressed inappropriately.

To get me out of bed in the mornings for school she would sing the "Time to get up song," a creative rendition of a song I was taught in pre-school, and to this very day the words still haunt me. But I am actually looking forward to the day that I can torment my children with it. 

She made sure that my (inappropriate) clothes were ironed, my hair was done pretty and even through my first year of college helped me write wrote my essays. Shhh! don't tell.

She has been there for me through boyfriends and break ups, good new and bad, new jobs and career paths. I can always count on her to have a solution when I have a problem, even if it's just figuring out what I should make for dinner.

She doesn't care what people think and isn't afraid to be goofy. She is the reason that I am as strong and independent as I am. She taught me to speak what is on my mind, and I do! And to not take crap from others. She told me that I should never throw the first punch, but I should always throw the second. I've taken this to heart!


It's funny, a couple months ago, I was in the car with my little brother and a car swerved out of it's lane, almost crashing into the car ahead of me and making me swerve a bit too. Rather than yelling some crazy obscenity, all I got out was "Crimany! Crazy woman driver!" My brother looked at me like I had gone senile. That is exactly something my Mama would say.

(Three generations)

I also realized that I sit at the dinner table like she does with my feet tucked neatly under my bottom.

I have the strange habit of constantly rubbing my feet together like she does when I am on the couch. It's comforting.

We both refuse to buy store-bought pie crust.

We share the same love for the color pink.

We both have apple cheeks and fine hair.

And we both think John Hamm and Bradley Cooper are sexy.

The older I get, the more I realize that I truly am becoming my mother. Which, in my book is a pretty remarkable person to be.

Thanks for letting me borrow the best parts of you, Mom. I love you.


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