I started this blog with every intention on writing in it almost every day, but what I didn’t expect was to have a complete mental block on what to write about. I thought the ideas would just come pouring out of me and they haven’t. Do I want to write about my hair? Relationships? The proper way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? I should note that while making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich seems to be a straight forward process, there is currently an ongoing debate in my house about the proper procedures. I guess I’ll save the PB & J debacle for a blog on another day because today, I finally did it, I figured out what I am going to write about. Are you ready?
I am going to tell you about my mom.
“your mom? really?”
Yeah, my mom. Mothers day is right around the corner people, and I wanted to make my first blog special and since there is no one more special to me than my mom, it just seemed perfect. So here we go, grab your wine or whatever beverage makes you happy. Mom, if it’s you reading this, grab your Crystal Light iced tea and let’s get started…
It was a chilly April morning, I was 9 or 10 years old and my brother Greg was 6 or 7. We were woken up early because my mom was all kinds of excited. “Toni! Greg! Come quick! You have GOT to see this!” Still wiping the sleep from our eyes we emerged from our bedrooms and proceeded down the stairs. There was mom, at the door at the foot of the stairs looking outside telling us to hurry or we’ll miss it. Greg and I made our way to the door, him in nothing but his tighty whiteys and me in a pink night gown. “What!?” we asked. “There’s a moose!” she said “look!” Greg and I poked our heads out the door but we couldn’t see anything “Where!?” we asked. “You have to look around the corner of the house” she told us. Greg and I made our way out the door and looked around the house where we saw… yup… nothing. Before we could even turn around to ask where the moose was, we heard the door close and lock. Confused, Greg and I looked into the window in the door and there was our mother laughing hysterically yelling “APRIL FOOLS!!” through the door at us. At six o’clock in the morning on a chilly April day, you can imagine how unamused we were, although now, years later (about 18 years to be exact) it’s one of our favorite memories.
My mom has an amazing sense of humor, which is probably why my three brothers and I do too. She’s smart and funny, and she’s also a little OCD. Not diagnosed, but… we see it. Need an example? Let’s talk about Christmas…
Every present is wrapped IMMACULATELY. Corners folded perfect, tape almost invisible and then adorned with a matching ribbon and bow. As much as all of us love this (we really do, and I can’t pick much fun because her crazy attention to detail is rubbing off on me) we couldn’t help but give her a hard time about it. One year, just to prove that she could wrap an “ugly” present, she took all of the scraps from the presents she’d previous wrapped and did a “hodge podge” wrap job. This is now tradition. Every year one present is wrapped in a bunch of different kinds of wrapping paper and we all look forward to seeing who got the “ugly” gift that year. It’s amazing to me that something as silly and small as this has become such an important part of our holiday. Mom has a way of doing that though… she makes everything so much more special.
I decided that she was going to be the topic of this blog this afternoon after I’d hung up the phone with her. I’d called her because I was frustrated with my boyfriend, he’d done something to upset me so I called mom to vent to her about it. As usual, she listened, she giggled a bit about how ridiculous I can be (I can be pretty ridiculous) and then she did what she always does, she gave me some advice, told me she loved me and that she would talk to me later.
I realized when I hung up how lucky I am and how grateful I am that I have her. So this one is for you mom, a blog about something special wouldn’t be special at all if it didn’t have you.
To anyone else reading this… go call your mother and tell her you love her.