I could write a tribute to my mom every day, but since this Sunday is the the yearly designated block on the calendar for Mom, I'll go ahead and dedicate this week's blog to mine, who we like to call Moe, or as Andy says "Marine".
I've met a lot of women in my life whom I don't like at all. I'm lucky though, to have been in the company of so many whom I like very much and love a great deal. I have some really fantastic friends and colleagues who have helped shape and influence me throughout the years but no woman has had made a greater impact on me than Moe.
Being a mom has, of course, made me better understand Moe and respect the decisions she has made. I'm lucky to say that it wasn't just parenthood that opened my eyes to my mom's sacrifices, her strength and grace. I've known ever since I was a little girl that I had a special mom and lived under the guidance of the type of mom not everyone gets to have. Sure, there were bumps along the way and on several occasions as an angry teen, I told her I hated her and called her inappropriate names. But, I never meant it. And, what's cool about my mom is that she called me those names right back. What? I totally deserved it!
In college, when most kids are trying to break away from their parents, I wanted my mom to enroll and live in the dorm with me. Back in those days as I traveled and learned, changed and matured, I wished my mom was with me. I wished I could pack her in my bag and bring her with me. I wished she could see all the adventures I was having. I wished she could experience all the opportunities she'd given me. Whether or not she wanted to hear it, I always updated her on almost everything, finding her to be the best listener and least judgemental confidante.
Mom was the first person I called when Andy proposed. She was the first person who knew I was pregnant and after Andy, she is next in line to hear the trials and tribulations of my work and social activities and to share the little joys that Caroline brings to my life.
She is quiet and unassuming. She listens more than she speaks, churning ideas in her head before sharing. Yet she is fierce and funny and outspoken when she wants to be. She is a great friend and amazing family member. Plus she can laugh at herself, demonstrating that humility is better than arrogance.
She has taught me to be myself (even if it made her cringe when I died my hair purple) but to consider others feelings. She taught me that cleanliness is next to godliness and that a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bike.
As I stood outside my car today at the grocery store and repacked my bags, grumbling about the orange juice crushing my chicken breasts, I laughed to myself and thought, "God, I'm turning into my Mother. Cool."
This Sunday, Moe, and every day before and after it, daughters-who-have become-their-mothers lift their nicely re-packed grocery bags high in the air, in honor of you: Mom.
I've met a lot of women in my life whom I don't like at all. I'm lucky though, to have been in the company of so many whom I like very much and love a great deal. I have some really fantastic friends and colleagues who have helped shape and influence me throughout the years but no woman has had made a greater impact on me than Moe.
Being a mom has, of course, made me better understand Moe and respect the decisions she has made. I'm lucky to say that it wasn't just parenthood that opened my eyes to my mom's sacrifices, her strength and grace. I've known ever since I was a little girl that I had a special mom and lived under the guidance of the type of mom not everyone gets to have. Sure, there were bumps along the way and on several occasions as an angry teen, I told her I hated her and called her inappropriate names. But, I never meant it. And, what's cool about my mom is that she called me those names right back. What? I totally deserved it!
In college, when most kids are trying to break away from their parents, I wanted my mom to enroll and live in the dorm with me. Back in those days as I traveled and learned, changed and matured, I wished my mom was with me. I wished I could pack her in my bag and bring her with me. I wished she could see all the adventures I was having. I wished she could experience all the opportunities she'd given me. Whether or not she wanted to hear it, I always updated her on almost everything, finding her to be the best listener and least judgemental confidante.
Mom was the first person I called when Andy proposed. She was the first person who knew I was pregnant and after Andy, she is next in line to hear the trials and tribulations of my work and social activities and to share the little joys that Caroline brings to my life.
She is quiet and unassuming. She listens more than she speaks, churning ideas in her head before sharing. Yet she is fierce and funny and outspoken when she wants to be. She is a great friend and amazing family member. Plus she can laugh at herself, demonstrating that humility is better than arrogance.
She has taught me to be myself (even if it made her cringe when I died my hair purple) but to consider others feelings. She taught me that cleanliness is next to godliness and that a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bike.
As I stood outside my car today at the grocery store and repacked my bags, grumbling about the orange juice crushing my chicken breasts, I laughed to myself and thought, "God, I'm turning into my Mother. Cool."
This Sunday, Moe, and every day before and after it, daughters-who-have become-their-mothers lift their nicely re-packed grocery bags high in the air, in honor of you: Mom.
Comments