“Your Mom…” Oh Wait. This is about My Mom.

I am terrible about “timeliness” in my posts. I have a draft about the Harry Potter finale last summer– never finished. A draft about The Hunger Games— never finished. A draft about this season of American Idol– the finale is in two weeks. If y’all told me to jump off a bridge, I’d get as far as buying a new swimsuit and maybe some floaty wings. I’m just really bad at getting things done when there is “society pressure.”

But not today!

My mom is the greatest mom in the world. I know people say that all the time, but they’re liars. They also probably eat crippled baby birds. That’s a little much for Mother’s Day. But they are definitely liars.

She daily proves the extent to which love and dedication feed compassion, responsibility, and success. She taught me all the words to every Garth Brooks song, including the semi-dirty ones, and knows every line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. She only laughed a little bit when I was in middle school and shaved only the front half of my legs. (Because the back half didn’t matter…?) She drove across the state just to take me out to dinner for my 22nd birthday. She sighed resignedly when we girls wouldn’t wear the adorable Christmas dresses she loved and instead chose poop-brown suede clogs and rainbow striped cotton tights. (I didn’t say I was proud of it, just that it happened.) She texts my best friend to tease him for not having a girlfriend. She loves to prove her point using the word “hence,” which she shrieks above the din of our family dinners. She is currently ranting about how much mustard we have in the refridgerator. (To be fair, it’s a lot. My dad keeps forgetting that we have some and buys more. To the tune of 5 bottles.)

She is the strongest woman I know. She faces challenges with the knowledge that her faith and love will bring her through. She trusts her instincts and taught me to do so too. She believes that God cares for every individual in this world with a deep and persistent love that we cannot even imagine. And she taught me that although a mother-daughter bond is vital, it is not the only bond we will each have in our lives.

So she has given me surrogate mothers who love me too. Women who cried when I graduated college, women who rejoiced when I told them of my plans to move, women who pat my hand in assurance that the right man will come along. She encouraged me in my devotion to my Sunday School kids, who pursue life with a vigor fueled by Capri Suns and goldfish crackers. She smiled when I told her of the lovely older couple from my church who told me to bring back “that special someone” to my college town so that they could meet him. She chose a man to be my father who is kind and generous and who was willing to wear the Pretty Pretty Princess crown for many, many years.

She makes the best enchiladas in the world. And today she totally bragged about my blog to our family when I haven’t exactly mentioned it to many of them.

So I raise my glass of ice tea (because we don’t keep wine in the house) to you, Mama. Thank you for all that you do. I love you!