Mother's Day- My Way

Today, I noticed an insane amount of people huddled around the Mother’s Day cards at the store, desperately trying to find “the one” that says exactly what they are feeling. Since I have never been one of the lucky ones who has been able to find someone who can sum up my thoughts in a .99 Hallmark diddy, I am left to come up with an original. So, on the eve of Mother’s Day, I am saving a trip down that aisle of crazy…

Thanks, Mom. 

Thank you for teaching me to cook.  Watching you make meal after meal not only fed your own three constantly hungry kiddos, but also is used to feed my troops today.

Thank you for teaching me to bake.  I feel closer to the women in my life, even those gone long before I ever got here, because of the legacy of love that comes in a worn card with the handwriting of past traditions and favorite birthday cakes.  I feel like I can hear them with me as I hand over their voices to the next generation. 

Thank you for showing me that brains trump beauty.  I never had to doubt I was good enough when I knew that my success and personal achievement were attributed to my own hard work and not a tube of mascara and a fake tan.  I have to admit, it is a bit comforting to know that all “those girls” are wrinkly and middle-aged just like me now, but I still can discuss classical literature at length.

Thank you for not letting me buy into peer pressure.  I grew up around some pretty spoiled kids.  I may have at times been lured off the path by fancy shoes, brand names, or expensive (and ridiculous) fads, but you were always quick to pull me back to reality.  I may not have had the money for fancy hairdos and product back then, but I was the only one who had a high school picture that had hair that fit into the frame.  I am very, very thankful for that now.

Thank you for no video games, and for the ability to imagine.  My favorite summer memories are of climbing trees, riding bikes, and jumping on inner tubes.  I still remember my riding route up to the bank and through all the teller drives.  Sorry if I used that imagination at times for evil and not good.  I should never have told Jarod that there were motorcycle murderers in our woods or that he was "found" because he had blonde hair.  In my defense, though, he did most of the things he told you I did. 

Thank you for wearing “bus stop clothes” instead of heels around my friends, dancing like a chicken, and driving a backfiring pickup truck on our class field trip.   After all, none of the muddy kids could’ve gotten back to school in those Jaguars and BMWs.

Thank you for checking on me when you got home late from work and I was sleeping.  I always felt better when my room smelled like hospital soap.  All was well in the world.  

Thanks for coming to watch me play sports, even when you didn’t know how you would afford to get in to see me.  You tried to hide it, but I knew.  And it made me play harder.

Thank you for telling me to write, even when I didn’t want to write.  I still want to be a surgeon.  I always will.  I guess dissecting sentences will have to do.  If only the pay could be the same…

Thank you for all the times I did not thank you- for not laughing at me when I tried to have a conversation on IV pain medication, or when I got 95 mosquito bites on a camping trip. Thanks for our shopping trips (even the grocery ones) when I am about to have a mental breakdown from solitary confinement.  Thanks for beeping when you drive past my house.  Thanks for calling me on your breaks.  Most days, you are the only adult I talk to, and the only outlet I have into the world outside my door.  I am thankful every day, and I really should say it more. So, starting with today, thank you.  Love you.

Oh, and sorry for the pink flamingo you got for a gift.  The kids thought you would love it.  I didn’t have the heart to say no.