The older I get, the more and more I come to truly love, appreciate and admire my Mom. I love her and am blessed beyond belief to be her daughter. Happy Mother’s Day Mom! Xoxo.
With C and I’s wedding happening next month you could say that the stress level around here is running just a touch high. My mom can’t sleep because she worries about everything that needs to get done, everyone coming into town and the limited time we have left to get it all done. I can’t sleep at night… adding, deleting and reviewing my, what seems to be, never ending list of things to order, things to do, and things to make. At 12 am, trying to determine just the right amount of flowers for the centerpieces and the color of shoes to go under my dress just seems vitally important and sleep can wait.
But, none of this beats the anxiety that my Dad is experiencing. Not only is he worried about how I’m getting down the aisle, how he’s getting down the aisle, who’s pushing the wheel chair and whether or not he’ll stand up… he’s dreaming about it too. Not any dream, mind you. A dream, that I believe, would be haunting for any man. It went a little something like this:
My Dad: You think you’ve got it bad, I’ve been dreaming about the wedding.
My Mom: Really?
My Dad: Yeah……. Only in my dream…. I’m the bride. And, no one is showing up for the wedding. I repeatedly ask why no one is showing up and finally find out it’s because they’re charging $22.50 per plate to come. It was awful.
My Mom: <insert hysterical laughter>
It puts it all into perspective. My dad is dreaming about being the bride, which is not only slightly disturbing, but also not a particularly attractive image. I’m not sure any of the other details can top that.
Charles, my sweet and cantankerous little dog, did something so precious that I just can’t keep it to myself any longer. This may officially make me a crazy dog mom, and I will happily accept the label.
This past Sunday morning, Charles brought my mom flowers. Yes, you read that correctly… he brought her flowers. He went outside and dragged them up from the garden, through the dog gate, up the stairs and planted them firmly inside her bedroom door. He then proceeded to sit by them and waited for her. And, as anyone would, she took a picture.
Come on, it’s cute, right? I heart that little man. With my whole heart. Even if he looks like he has a lazy eye and is in desperate need of a bath. Maybe next time he’ll pick some flowers for me?
Over the past few years I’ve started to take notice of new things and appreciate things that have been in my life from the beginning. I’ve started to really appreciate everything my parents did for me. I’ve started to realize that my parents are people… not just my mom and dad. I see myself in my mom and I see her in me. I relate to her.
It dawned on me that my mom is a girl too. I know, revolutionary. She had elementary school crushes and dreamed of her first kiss with prince charming, just like I did. She played sports in high school and giggled like an idiot with her friends because that’s what girls do, just like I did. She went to college, probably experienced heart-break and got her first job, just like I did.
She has emotions, she feels things and has days where nothing goes right and the world is against her. It’s hard to believe that the woman who always had the answer, always knew what to do and was always there probably had doubts, fears, flew by the seat of her pants… but that never once stopped her from being the best she could be.
It’s weird, I can’t pin point when exactly my mom stopped being a mom, and became a person. But she did. She works because she has to support herself, no longer to support me. She’s always been a great Mom, an amazing mom (though there were a few fights back in high school where I most certainly didn’t support that statement). But now, I realize she’s also an amazing woman, friend, sister, confidant and woman.
I love her and am eternally thankful for her. I’m blessed to be her daughter.
Seeing as it’s Thanksgiving, I find it more than appropriate to express my gratitude for so many things in life. My friends and family… honestly I couldn’t live without them or their inappropriate senses of humor. You know who you are. These “saying thanks” things can get a little overwhelming if you think about it. We’re so blessed and there are so many things you should mention. Sort of like an Oscar speech, if you forget one person… they’ll never let you live it down. So… here are a few things I’m thankful for:
1. My mom always losing her keys, her credit card, her mind… and allowing me to mock her.
2. My sisters varying degrees of laughter. You never know what you’re going to get.
3. My Dad’s random and off the wall comments sometimes referring to turkey s**t.
4. All of my friends, their floor dancing, chats over wine, unwavering support, and all the hysterics that go with it.
5. Charles. I’m just thankful for my dog. He’s a jerk and he can be a pain in the butt, but I heart him and his trash eating ways.
6. Chapstick… you never once have let me down.
7. My iPhone. I am truly naked without it, as in can’t function.
8. Spandex, and it’s insertion into many styles of pants. Thanksgiving pants can now be fashionable.
9. My electric bug killing raquet.
10. Everything that I’ve forgotten and will remember tomorrow. Yeah, I’m thankful for that too.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Hope you ate yourself into a coma and took a nap. Then watched some football… essentially living the American dream.
For me, Facebook started my freshman year of college. It was just the basic Facebook. No status updates, no crazy quizzes, no highly specific news stream. Ahh, the good ‘ol days. At this time, Facebook was also only for students, you had to join your school’s network and connect with friends that way. Boy oh boy how things have changed. For instance, my Mom is now on Facebook (Hi Mom!). I love my Mom, in fact at first the idea of her being on Facebook didn’t phase me one bit. She’s seen my pictures, she knows my friends and their bizarre antics, so what’s the big freaking deal, right? Not right.
For one, my Mom has more incriminating and horrifying photos of me than any of my friends could even fathom gathering in a life time. Take this for instance. Nothing screams awkward years like braces and a Furby.
I’m so thankful she left out the “beds” and “homes” we made for them… Um, er, I mean boxes I stuffed it in because it was so lame. I was clearly much too old to be playing with such a ridiculous toy. She also has quite a collection of all the fashion mistakes she made for me as a child. Just check out the bunny stitched on the front of this blue jumper, oh and the ruffly sleeves (I’m on the right). I have to say I don’t know if I’ve seen a more styling Easter outfit in all my years. Ever. Not to say that my sisters stripped overalls are much of an improvement, but they do have just a touch more tact.
So after a year of so of these little gems showing up on my profile, I gave up. You know what Mom, you want to post embarassing things I’ll take it. Everyone was awkward once… or at least that’s what I tell myself.
BUT, there’s a new development in my Mothers Facebook life. She has set up text message alerts for my status updates. Everytime I change my status, comment on the weather or mention the most intimate details of my clearly mudane life, she gets a text message. Let me paint this picture a little clearer. If I’m in the same house, building or even just a phone call away when I update my status, it sounds something like this:
ME: Type, type, type. Submit Status Update. Go about my business.
MOM: Phone Beeps, “Beep, Beep, Buzz, Buzz”. Mom picks up the phone and says “So you’re having a love affair with a kiwi??”
ME: Shocked by the randomness. “Yeah,um, what? Um, I like kiwi’s. What do you want from me?” Eye roll.
Something along those lines every single time. I’m trying to get used to it, but honestly it’s like being in a high school knowing that your mom is reading your diary. And, I know that the moment I get over this, the moment I let it go she’ll figure out a way to video stalk every moment I spend on Facebook, or the Internet for that matter. At least I have something to look forward to.
Quote of the day. My mom to my dad:
“I thought I smelled Marajuana earlier… but I think its just you. Are you wearing your fufu juice?”