I love my mom so much. And since Sunday is Mother's Day, here are some reasons why.
My mom is gifted when it comes to raising house and garden plants, in a way she did not pass on to me.
My mom gave me a love of reading at a very early age. And she taught me that reading to your child is imperative, even if your goofy voices and exaggerated cadences make you seem ridiculous. And she gave Precocious Daughter the first book she ever read by herself.
|Thank you, Biscuit. Thank you, Grammy.|
My mom insisted that I watch Sesame Street and Mister Rogers' Neighborhood when I was a pre-schooler, because she saw how valuable they were. And she was right.
My mom made a lot of clothes. Some of them were polyester nightmares, but she made them. For me. The clothes I'm wearing in (at least) my 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade school pictures were hand made by my mom. Wow.
My mom should have a college degree. But she doesn't because she had three children before her 25th birthday, and she raised us instead.
My mom taught me to cook and bake. To this day I love to cook and bake.
My mom taught me to do needlepoint and cross-stitch, although she never did get me to pick up knitting and crocheting. It's not her fault. I just don't get them. (PDaughter can crochet, however, so I'm grateful it skipped a generation and picked up again.)
My mom was raised Lutheran, but converted to Catholicism when she married my daddy, and she raised three kids as Uber-Catholics. It didn't take with any of us, but that's more the Church's fault than hers, clearly.
My mom introduced me to the writings of Stephen King, and Anne McCaffrey, and Robert Heinlein. Three of my favorite authors to this day.
My mom had a complicated relationship with her parents, whom I never knew. I relate, but I also work hard not to be estranged from mine, because I see through her how painful that can be.
My mom loves cats.
My mom said "crap" in my presence once. It's the only time I've ever heard her curse. I've never known anyone with her ability to get good and mad without resorting to cursing.
My mom could have had a very different life from the one she's led. Should have? Maybe. But she's my mom, and I love her and am selfishly glad her life made her my mother instead of something else.
It is the prerogative of the child to be selfish of the mother.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.
|Not enough roses.|