for my mom

October, 2013.

Dear Mom,

          You are 53 this year.  Congratulations on making it this far without your hair turning gray or having to use a wheelchair!  You have been through so much, and yet you are still ticking.  I had this brilliant idea to make a list of 53 things I love about you, but dang, that’s just too much.  I made it to number 16 and called it quits.  Not because there aren’t 53 things to love about you, but because I wanted them all to be meaningful.  Not that you don’t have 53 meaningful qualities, but anyway . . . I decided to put this in letter format and to add fun stuff at the end.

          First of all, I am ever so grateful you picked my dad as your life-mate.  You gave him a second chance to win your heart, and I am happy you did.  I can’t imagine you being married to anyone else.  I also can’t imagine any other man being as patient, steady, handy, and dependable (with a dash of orneriness) - and that is what you needed.  So thank you for choosing Dad.

          Also, and this must be said, thanks for giving birth to me.  I know you didn’t have to, and I know you had just been through considerable pain and suffering and heartache.  Now that I am a mom myself, I understand how difficult it is to choose to have children when you know they may be born with serious defects.  I feel absolutely certain that I owe not just my existence, but my continued survival to you.  You loved me when you weren’t sure if I would live.  You cared for me after each operation or procedure.  You were always there for me, and without you I would not be here today. 

          Along those lines, thanks for choosing to have another child after me.  I know Greg and I fought most of the time and even hated each other at times, but it was good to have someone to grow up with.  We ended up being friends, and no one gets you as well as a sibling.  No one else has those childhood memories. 

          As for teaching me as I grew up, you did everything.  You taught me about my period, and showed me how to wash my panties in the sink if blood got on them.  You taught me to cook, and that is a valuable life skill.  You taught me how to French braid, how to use a curling iron, paint my nails, put on makeup, etc.  A lot of girls do not have mothers to teach them these things.  Here’s something else: you taught me how to separate groceries on the belt when you’re checking out: meat in one section, dairy in another, frozen over here, produce over there, etc.  You would be surprised how many people do not do that.  It’s such a simple thing, and it makes it easier on the cashier and bagger, and also on the person who unpacks the groceries at home. And hey, you also made me wear a bra even when I didn’t need to- you remember the whole nipple issue.  So thanks for molding me into the woman I am today.

          I don’t remember who introduced me to reading, but I do know that you were the one who encouraged it the most.  You really helped nourish my soul with books.  I do not know what kind of person I would be without my passion for reading.  I don’t know how I could have gotten past some difficult and/or painful ordeals in my life without the escape books offered.

          You gave me my excellent taste in music. First, by putting on 70s records like the Bee Gees and Abba on Saturday house cleaning days when I was little, and later by taking me to my first concert.  You basically created my obsession with the Monkees and my deep appreciation of the Beatles.  To this day, I prefer some good funky 70s music to anything else- I mean, there were A LOT of Saturday house cleaning days while I was growing up.  It’s in my blood now.  You also taught me the electric slide, which remains my favorite dance.  Speaking of dancing, you are a natural.  You pick up steps faster than me, and you look better doing it. 

          I would say that you are my best friend.  My husband is, too, but the mother-daughter relationship we have is different from the spousal relationship.  I believe I can tell you anything if I can just work up the nerve.  You probably know 99% of everything there is to know about me.  I usually love spending time just sitting and talking to you- I say “usually” because there are way too many times when one or both of us is too sick or in pain to enjoy anything.  You are always there for me, and I hope you know that I am always here for you.  I may grumble, but you must know that I truly want to help when I can.

          You are strong.  You are a warrior.  You have been through life obstacles of all sorts, and you always pull through.  You have survived loss of a magnitude that I cannot even fathom as a mother.  You went through heart surgery, kidney stones, and breast reduction as a teenager.  You suffered a wasp caught in your panty hose at school, and getting your period on Halloween.  You made it through these mortifying incidents, and shared them with me so that I could learn.  You had some kind of knee surgery and had to stay lying down, but you still managed to throw me a birthday party from the couch.  You had two aneurisms is your spleen, and it was accidentally discovered by a thorough technician who was checking for something else entirely.  You have back problems and continuing kidney stones and who knows what else.  And yet you still go on living your life.  You can be very happy, and when you are, everyone knows it.  Your laugh is very distinctive and unapologetic, and I love it.  You are an inspiration. 

You are creative when you don’t have to be.  You could so easily slip into empty-nest housewife mode and watch TV, sleep, and drink all day.  Instead, you keep up with the housework while designing and making jewelry and other crafts.  You let your creative side out, and you make money doing it.  On top of that, you are also creative in the kitchen, experimenting with different dishes to try on Dad for supper or new recipes for pies or other dessert items for the holidays.  I honestly do not know how you do it.

You are a wonderful grandma.  You have totally opened your heart to include 3 precious grandchildren.  I entrusted you with the care of my first baby when he was only 4 weeks old and I had to go back to work.  At first it was difficult, but now I know without a doubt that you can take care of my kids. Tyger and Cougar absolutely love you, and they think going to Grandma’s house is the best treat ever.  You give them the attention they need, and you spoil them rotten.  You have even managed to keep up a bond with your granddaughter, even though she moved a few states away.  The kids just adore you.

Well, to make a long story short- I am lucky to have you as my mom.  You are truly the best mom ever, and an inspiration as a woman.  I love you with all my heart, Mom.