Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. I know you all think you have the most amazing mother in the world, but I am going to go all 3rd grade right now and say, “My mom is prettier than your mom! and she can probably beat your mom up, but she won’t because my mom is nice.”

It’s weird being a parent and looking back and my childhood through these eyes.  I mean, wow…my mom lucked out when she had me! I was a freaking angel!
Actually, it’s looking at my mother as she is at my age. I’m nearing forty and I remember thinking when my mom turned forty she was about as old as they get. I didn’t think she would last much longer after that point.  It could have been the years of her telling me, “You better be good…I could die tomorrow.” or just the fact that forty was SO old.

I still can’t see my mother aging.  That is probably one of the neatest things about loving someone with every ounce of love you have in your body…when they age, they still look the same no matter what.  Is there an age she looks to me? No, she looks the same age as she has always looked.   I don’t want to see a day come that I look at my mother in shock and realize that she’s not the strong, smart, funny and indestructible woman she has always been. I don’t want to see her frail and having to fight.  Because of this fear, I will have to smother her while she sleeps…if my sister hasn’t done it already.

It’s days like this…where I am in a crappy mood because my plans were turned upside and I didn’t get what I wanted that I look at my daughters on the couch watching TV.  I’m sitting there with them and I wonder if they see me the way I see my mother. I don’t look the same as I did 5 years ago, 10 years ago…do they not notice that gravity is taking it’s toll on my poor body?  Or will they always see me as the woman they want to see me as?  The fearless, strong and funny mother who drags them on crazy adventures, much like my mother did with me? God I hope so.

I wish I could hang out with my mother when we were the same age.  My mother at 38…I was there, but where was I?  Why was I so caught up in my own life that I can’t remember?  I bet we would have gotten into a lot of trouble, us two. I bet I could have talked her into doing some of the stuff I do now…and she probably would have been able to give me pointers on how to not give a shit what people think and just let it roll off my back.

My mom and I have an awesome relationship, she is really, genuinely one of the most amazingly stubborn, bullheaded, pain in the ass mother’s you would ever know.  She is has all the love in the world for the people she cares for and she NEVER holds back that love…well, except when you piss her off…but she never stops loving with all that she has.

I want to be more like mother. I want to look like her, be like her. Not smell like her, because she is reallllllly reeallllly old and you know old people usually smell like stale farts and bad perfume.   I’m kidding…she only buys the super expensive perfume (to cover up the stale fart smell)

I love you, Mommasita.  You’re a unmeasurable brat. You are the original funny lady.  I do not take for granted the genes you have passed on to me…the good ones and the bad ones.  I love the sound of your voice and the way you taught me the fine art of a tackle hug.  I love your cold hands and feet on me when we snuggle in bed to watch TV.  I love how you have passed your evil laugh down to me and it is slowly being cultivated into your grand daughters.  I love how you love. I love how you can hold a grudge for years. I love that we still follow by the rules you have set down for us even though we are older now and could put you in a home or snap your neck a twig (you would put up a good fight at first!)

Thanks for being the most amazing role model.  Happy Mother’s Day.