My Mom Is...

Being away from my mom on Mother's Day (for the first time mind you) is not easy and I have been thinking a lot about her lately. She is an amazing woman, and though we have had our share of rough times and things are definitely not perfect, she is a wonderful mom, someone whose family I am proud to be a part of. As I get older I find that I am (gasp!) becoming more and more like my mother. To most gals my age that is a scary thought and something they dread, but to me, it is a compliment. I hear my mother coming out of my mouth all the time, and scary as it was at first, now when I hear myself say something she has said a million times, I shake my head and smile, knowing that somehow she knows I just did this and smiled, too. My mom says I am skipping over becoming her and going straight to becoming my grandmother, at which I always laugh. If ueber-cleaning before company comes over and putting the chips and dip in bowls before I serve them makes me like my Oma, then so be it! And yes, as my mother also points out, I stomp around when I am frustrated, just like my Oma, and I have her butt! Well, such is nature, and nurture I guess. And what my mother doesn't realize, or maybe is just in denial of, is that she is becoming more and more like my grandmother as she gets older, and so in a way, I am becoming them both. Oh lord....

If I am in fact becoming my mother as I get older, that's okay, as she is so many wonderful things...

My Mom is arms - the first pair that held me and welcomed me into this big world; the ones that hugged me each morning when I got up and each night before they tucked me into bed; the ones that always are always there, welcoming me home again with a hug so joyful.

My Mom is shoulders - stronger and bigger than they might appear to be, she carries the weight of the world sometimes, somehow always standing tall and strong for her family.

My Mom is stories - the ones she read to me before tucking me in at night; the ones she would make up on a whim when I was bored on a rainy afternoon; the silly ones she tells about when she was kid (always with a little lesson woven right in); the ones she listens to me tell, over and over again, never telling me to hush, but listening with a smile each and every time.

My Mom is history - the roots of our family that she proudly shares with me; the line of strong women she is a part of and has helped me to become a part of.

My Mom is hands - the ones that held mine as I took my first wobbly toddling steps; the ones that drew characters she could bring to life with a story; the ones that sewed miles of cloth into countless Halloween costumes, sewed Girl Scout patches onto sashes, hemmed skirts and replaced buttons; the ones that held mine when times were tough and let me squeeze them when I needed reassurance.

My Mom is snacks - the ones she would make when I got home from school; the ones she would bring in for any and every class party, slumber party, birthday party; the weekend morning suckers from the bank, when she always made sure I got the flavor I wanted; the piece of secret stash chocolate she will share when she knows I have had a really long, hard day.

My Mom is a teammate - one who would play with me a little girl; one who as an adult supports me and the plays I make.

My Mom is an opponent - one who plays the devil's advocate when I need it; one who knows she can not agree with me all the time, but will still love me; one who knows that sometimes I need some opposition, a good fight in order to be a stronger person.

My Mom is a coach - one who taught me how to do many things as a kid; one who helps me now, to know what plays to make, when to stay, when to run.

My Mom is a fan - one who sat in the audience proudly for so many band concerts, school plays, recitals, etc. and always clapped the loudest; one who supports me no matter what I do, always cheering me on in her quiet ways.

My Mom is first aid - the one who bandaged skinned knees and elbows; the one who kissed boo-boos she couldn't see because a kiss always made it better; the one who ran to the drug store for medicine and tissues at midnight for a sick kid; the one who spent hours in doctor's offices and hospitals with kids who had everything from the chicken pox to asthma, broken bones to bronchitis, migraines to dislocated knees, and everything in between; the one who could mend a broken toy and when the time came, a broken heart.

My Mom is a nest - one she always put together for her family, a home that was warm, cozy and full of love; one that she gave me wings to leave; one that she welcomes me back to with open wings of her own.

My Mom is a woman - one who I wanted to be like as a little girl, dressing up in her high heels and jewelry; one who is strong, independent, emotional, opinionated, smart, talented, loving, and yes, sometimes, tired; one who I hope to be like.

My Mom is a friend - one who always had good friends because she was a good friend to others; one who taught me what it meant to be a good friend and how to be one; one who is now my friend as well as my Mom, someone I can laugh with and talk to as an adult.

My Mom is love - the first person to love me, the first person I loved; the person who has shown me what real love is and isn't; the one who has loved me enough to let me become my own person; the one with enough love and heart big enough to be a Mom to so many other kids in her life; the person who truly knows that when new people come into your life, you don't love the others any less, but that your love expands to embrace them all.

My Mom is so many things to so many people - a daughter, a friend, a wife, a babysitter, a confidant, a taxi driver, a Gnoma, a cook, a waitress, a secretary, a lover, a playmate, a storyteller, a leader, a laundromat, a musician, a writer, a reader, a shopper, and yes, perhaps even a bitch. She is the woman in the bunny suit and proudly so.

For all the things my Mom is, I am proud to be her daughter, proud to be becoming more and more like her. She is MY Mom and today, though I am 1,600 miles away, I celebrate her and all that she is. I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day!

Today's picture is of my Mom and Oma! Love you ladies!