I’d like to share a blog post that I posted about Mother’s Day in 2010.
But before I do, I’d like to dedicate the blog post to my BFF.
Last Mother’s Day was the first without my mom. And I was absolutely dreading it. Having to hear about people taking their moms out to brunch or watching people buy Mother’s Day cards.
It was just heartbreaking.
Because the thing was, I loved, LOVED Mother’s Day. Looked forward to seeing my mom. Looked forward to the present I would give her. (She loved the Spa Ma Vermont Teddy Bear.) And mainly because I thought my mother was the best mom in the universe, I looked forward to celebrating the day of all things Mother.
And then she died.
I simply couldn’t bear Mother’s Day last year–to the point–that although I loved my Beloved’s mother, I couldn’t bring myself to even spend the day with them.
I decided to boycott the day altogether.But what to do? I knew I would be at a loose end.
I called Bu.
Together we hatched a plan. Although we lived in different states with different timezones,we both decided to go see a movie “together.” We planned a time that worked for both of us–with the promise that we would discuss the movie on the way home.
What turned out to be a potentially awful day turned out to be pretty nice.
So to my BFF: Happy Early Mother’s Day. Thank you for being my BFF, sister, advice-giver, M.O.M., snuggie-maker, French-hair braider, recipe-giver, knitting instructor, for knowing the importance of Pinterest, and for wondering how on earth Jessica Simpson could still be pregnant.
As I look towards getting older, there are many things I look forward to: a. getting to speak my mind fully and unselfconsciously to complete strangers without fear of repercussion (I am actively working on this), b. getting better looking by means fair or foul (i.e., Botox if need be), c. mandatory spa treatments to support letter b, and d. turning into my mother.
Because, you see, my mother–quite simply–rocks.
Now, I know other people say this of their mothers–and espouse their greatness–but in my mother’s case, it is simply true.
Kinda like gravity.
The best part of being my mother’s daughter is being her daughter as an adult. (Not that I still don’t get maternal advice: don’t talk to strangers, watch your purse, watch out for deer on the road–and after getting my wallet stolen, she’s not taking any chances!). We have so much fun together–we laugh, we talk. We also have our secret mom/daughter language (sorry–no can tell).
Although we live close, our respective work schedules make it difficult to see each other often or regularly, we have what I like to refer to as the Weekly Phone Call, which may transpire something like this:
ME: (after shutting office door and using office phone, which offers better quality than my crappy phone) Hi, it’s ME!
MOM: Hi ME! How is work?
MOM: How is Man?
MOM: How is LT? (Teddy for those of you not In the Know.)
ME: Fine. He’s still old.
(abrupt change in conversation)
ME: I HAVE GOSSIP!!
MOM: What? What is it?
ME: (spilling forth gossip of the week)
MOM: That’s good gossip.
ME: I know! (Because I’m nothing if not modest.) Do you have gossip?
MOM: Some. I was having issues with my wireless network. I called Tech Support, and they LOVED my network name!
ME: Oh yeah–what is it?
MOM: NO POACHING
Now, seriously, how can you not love a mom like that? She’s tech-savvy and protects her bandwidth.
The best part about my mom is not about the big memories we’ve made together–but the small ones–and even some of those in difficult times.
As lame as it sounds, Valentine’s Day is pretty important to girls–even though we can probably all agree that it’s a commercialized holiday funded by Hallmark. And yet, when that day rolls around, we want some acknowledgment that someone out there loves us–albeit in the form of a Hallmark Greeting Card.
I am lucky. Having suffered several crappy VD memories over the years–namely, buying my own flowers at the grocery store–after bashing my head in on a lamp and requiring 28 stitches and some guy heckling me in the parking lot–I am happily ensconced with Man (who makes everyday special), and always lights up my day with flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day.
Before Man, however, and even before my dad (who sent me my first flowers at age 14), there was my mom.
It was fourth grade (back in the day when you had to send valentines to every kid in the class–whether you liked them or not). I had walked in from school and up in the living room–sitting on the Queen Ann Table (from which I write this blog)–sat my Valentine’s gift from my mom; a white teddy bear holding a heart that said ‘Somebody Loves You,” a box of chocolates, candy hearts, and a card.
I could not believe that all that was for me. It was the best feeling ever.
I remember being so worried about this project for my fifth-grade history project–but no worries: Mom to the rescue. Mine was one of the best in class, and we had such fun working on it together.
A Night at The Worthington
Mom and I spent a night at The Worthington in downtown Fort Worth–being ladies on the town. 🙂 We sat in the piano lounge in our dress-up clothes. I was 16 and felt so elegant.
Ice Cream Sundaes on the Couch
After my parents separated, my mom and I spent an afternoon on the couch watching movies and eating ice cream. She brought me an outfit from The Limited, which I had (at least the leggings) until 2001.
Where Everybody Knows Your Name: Boston
In spite of all the sadness that had befallen us, Mom always wanted to make sure we made memories. We used her flight benefits to fly to Boston for the day. We went to Filene’s Basement.
Freshman Year of College
After the passing of my grandmother after I transferred back to UNT–in spite of the grief she felt about my grandmother–my mom was there. I remember how out-of-the-blue she showed up at my dorm room with a new outfit because she thought it might cheer me up.
Mom always wanted us to having something to look forward to–so she planned a cruise for us upon my exit from grad school. We planned for months–fretting over wardrobes and pondering menus. 🙂
The worst thing about brain surgery is death. And having to shave your head. And that there aren’t mandatory pedicures. The best thing about brain surgery is having your mother with you. And not just the hospital stay–but after. It never occurred to my mother that she wouldn’t stay with me–even at the expense of other things going on. She was there–making smoothies, meals that I could eat, finding a pillow that I could sleep on, helping me bathe. But we talked–about life, about movies…sometimes we didn’t talk at all. We just sat.
The best thing you can have your mother say at 30, “You’re a lot easier to feed now than as a baby.” 🙂
Moving to the midwest wasn’t an easy decision–I was ready for a change and wanted to be where my mom was. After living in Chicago, I got my job in Minnesota.
And I emailed my mom with the words, “Hello Neighbor!” She cried. I did, too. And then I moved, and we ate Potbelly and clipped coupons. And Facebooked. And watched our shows. No Lifetime movie was ever too awful.
Lessons Learned From My Mom:
1. Put the turkey in early on a low setting.
2. If the recipe calls for butter, use it.
3. Watch for deer.
4. Don’t pet the deer.
5. Watch for you purse when you travel because if you lose your license, you’re not coming home.
6. Wear sunscreen.
7. Use fabric softener as cream rinse.
8. Wed. is double-coupon day at Rainbow.
9. Heat up a cup of white vinegar in the microwave to help clean the insides.
10. I Love Lucy/ Golden Girls fixes all troubles.
To my mom: I love you!!
And to my BFF: love you, too.