There are lots of sayings, poems, and little reminders out there that, as a mom, you know your child. You are with them from the beginning, you watch them grow, you see them change, you help shape them. But in the last few years I’ve also come to recognize that, as well as I know my children, I know my mom better.
I love that when I call my mom about anything, I know what she is going to say before she picks up the phone. Always. Sometimes, I just don’t call her or tell her things, because I already know what she is going to say or how she is going to react, and I really don’t want to hear it. Usually, that’s because I know I’m doing something I shouldn’t, and I know she will call me out on it.
But for the most part, I love knowing my mom. I know what she likes, I know what she hates. I know what will make her cry, when it will make her cry, and why it will make her cry. I love knowing that, if I’m having a bad day, she will be in my corner, and tell me that everything is going to be ok. I love that I have gotten to know her as more than a confidant and shoulder to cry on. I love that she has let me see her as a woman, as a friend, as a challenger, as a pillar of strength, and as a person just as insecure as myself.
I love that my mom laughs the way I do, sneezes louder than anyone I know, and gets as excited as any teenager about tv shows, movies, weddings, formal dances, books, activities, saturday nights, flowers, cards, babies, etc. I love that my mom lays it all out there, holds nothing back when you put on clothing that makes you look ridiculous, and casually lets you know when your haircut was a mistake.
I love that my mom wants everything for me, and wants me to be happier than I ever dreamed. I love that my mom tries to be an example, and is happy to tell me when she has made mistakes she wants me to avoid.
I love that my mom assumes that everything bad that COULD ever happen to me WILL probably happen to me, and has an escape plan/ contingency plan/ or defensive plan for whatever that situation may be. I love that, when the s*%t hits the fan, my mom doesn’t say, “I told you so,” to me, but reminds everyone else. 🙂
I love that my mom knows everything that is wrong with my body, or is going to look it up on the internet for me and diagnose my newest ailment as pre-cancerous or something as simple as dehydration. Then she is going to do all the background work to find out exactly what all my symptoms mean and how they could potentially play into medications/ procedures/ dietary changes so that I am completely prepared when I head into the doctor’s office.
I love that my mom will drop everything, even in the middle of the night when she has been sleeping for hours, to drive 2.5 hours to rescue me when I’m in over my head, I don’t know what to do with my kids, or someone close to me has passed away.
I love that my mom contradicts herself between the years, and plays it off as “maturing.”
I love that, no matter what, my mom always makes me feel like I’m her favorite person in the whole world, even when we are fighting.
I love that my mom feels everything deeply, with emotion that is so full and bloated that she can’t contain her laughter, anger, tears, or singing.
I love that my mom still looks at my dad the way she did in their engagement photos, and still looks at me the way she did in my baby photos.
I love that, sometimes, my mom lets me tell her what to do.
I love that my mom knows that no one has the “right” path in life, but always encourages me to do what is best for me, and my family.
I love that my mom’s faith is something she can’t help but share, and that she shared it with me.
I love that my mom can’t give up on people, and can’t let them walk out of her life without feeling the hole they left.
I don’t know if that is 20 reasons, or more, or less, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg. I love my mom as much as any daughter ever could, and as much as so many do. I’m blessed to have my mom in my life, and I pray for those who don’t have someone so wonderful to share everything with. While my daddy may always be Superman, my mom gets to be Wonderwoman, Catwoman, She-Ra, Supergirl, and my Fairy Godmother all rolled into one (and yes, I do believe Catwoman is a good thing- she kicked a$$ and pretended that a leather jumpsuit was comfortable).
Happy birthday, mom, I love you.