When you taught me at the age of 5 to curl my own hair, you were a gold star in my book.
Even though I wasn't allowed to wear heels until the 7th grade, I'll never forget wearing yours and practicing the sounds they made on the garage floor. I was going to be SO cool. Once we wore matching overalls. With matching Keds.
I have always wished I had your thick hair. And your olive skin-color.
Your 4th-of-July-strawberry-blueberry-cake, was the best dessert you ever made. But even the nights we ate cheesy mashed potatoes over cooked hot-dogs, I thought you were a great chef.
Oh...and even when you said not to, I still stole cookie-dough out of the bowl when you weren't looking. It was the very best thing on earth.
I remember asking you once why you put on mascara on the weekends if you weren't going out. You answered that impressing even just your family was important, but it also made you feel beautiful. I've always applied mascara in the mornings. Even if I'm only cleaning house.
I've long wondered if you were the only mother on the planet who intentionally played a movie over and over again that did nothing but make you cry. Or play Somewhere in Time's soundtrack only to result in the same amount of tears? I suppose it's possible I'll be this same person, but since I've watched you so many time, I'm not sure I have to play the movie anymore to get the waterworks going.
I think our taste in music spanned quite a few generations. There was years for us of nothing but 50s. Then years of only classic rock and that awful late-night-lady, Mary Marlow. Country music followed for a decade or so and we would blow up the car speakers with Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's Fishing in the Dark or Dixie Chicks' Wide Open Spaces. Slowly, but surely, pop and alternative music filled the car.
I wonder what you thought about during all those drives to Greeley when you spent a few years getting your Master's degree. I can't imagine it was easy leaving us a few nights a week to do it, but it was an honorable thing you did and you've always been so smart!! I feel like I should thank you for teaching me most of what I know. Not just as a mother, but as my first actually teacher in school. And for writing me long letters late at night when I was in college. I have saved every last one. I wonder if you know that.
I'm happy that you waited to tell me about Santa-Claus until I was 10. Those years were some of the best in my life.
I have always appreciated how accepting you've been of my decisions. Especially the fun ones like marrying Jason. You welcomed him into our family the moment you knew how important he was to me. Even when, for me, that moment of clarity was as a child.
I thought it was funny growing up that your favorite color was yellow. But as I've grown older, I find it a very fitting color. You are bright like the sun and yellow makes me smile. Always. But I still cry when I hear Debbie Gibson's Lost in your Eyes. In fact, just writing the song title gets my keyboard wet!
I'm not sure I'll ever understand what it takes to be a mom...a great mom. But I've been fortunate enough to be blessed with an amazingly great one. You are so smart, so funny, and absolutely beautiful. You're quiet the majority of the time, but when you laugh, it echoes across the country. I don't think little girls ever outgrown needing their mothers. And unlike most people, I won't be upset if I turn out just like you! You give me much to aspire to!
♥ Happy Mother's Day Moma. ♥
