Dear Mom

Mom,

We’re going to have to rain check on our Mother’s Day festivities, since I’m living in a different state and all, but I thought I’d give you a blog post instead of sending you something. Amazon recommended that I buy you a diamond pendant, but I’m going to go with this…

You are the easiest person to talk to in the entire world—I have no doubts. Even about things that are supposed to be hard to talk about or that no one else talks about with their mom. You’re not just a friend that’s a good listener though; you’re my mom. You give me mom advice and mom praise and you help me talk through problems. You’re really good at the praise part though. For example, you can make me feel great in a dressing room, which can be a depressing place. Most people can’t wear turtlenecks like you can, Sarah. I also think your shoulders are really pretty. I didn’t even know shoulders could be pretty. Now, I’m incredibly confident about my shoulders. I must have got my ego from you. Nah, I did that without any help—are you impressed?

Come to think of it, I think I got my sense of humor from you. Remember when my kindergarten teacher told you that I was a little sarcastic? I have no idea where that came from… I have to say, I wish I was being sarcastic about my outfit in the picture below, but I seem to genuinely think I'm lookin' cool.

You spin terrible situations. You don’t sugar coat things or turn into a maniacal cheerleader or anything, you just calmly reason out the good while remaining empathetic. I’m really impressed with how mature and classy you’re being about this break-up. I got dumped. But, somehow you salvaged something from the wreckage every time. Your Marie Callendar’s uniform is ugly, but that color looks nice on you and at least you don’t have to waste real clothes on work. And when situations are too terrible to spin, you just nod and that makes me feel better too—like seventh grade, or when Daddy fell.

Growing up, you read me books out loud while I bounced around on the end of the waterbed. If I ever have kids, I have only one plan: they’re going to hear Little House on the Prairie, The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter before they fall asleep. 

Also, if you could give my children “the talk” I’d really appreciate it. You were pretty amazing at Halloween costumes too—I should say you are pretty amazing, because Star Wars 2009 wasn’t too long ago. I was half Dorothy/half Scarecrow one year—you can’t buy that one at a store. I’m pretty positive there isn’t a pattern either.

Last weekend I watched the Bloomsday racers run by in front of Michael’s apartment. I saw a lot of families and I got a little emotional remembering how fun it was to run races (I spent a lot of time walking, but still) and to watch you run in your marathons. Dad would shuttle Laura and I around so we could see you multiple times during the race—I know you never broke any world records but it was really fun to cheer for mommy. I think that’s because you spent a lot of time clapping after my concerts, and I have to say they always meant more to me when you and dad were there. 

I thought walking in my graduation would be lame, but it felt great knowing that you were doing the Scotsman right behind me. I hope you’ll whistle at my Master’s graduation. That’s reason enough to study.

I’m a little obsessed with merging my worlds—I loved bringing friends home from school to play games with you (and dad, before he fell asleep). Sometimes they never leave, and still come over to “watch the Biggest Loser.” I mean, come on, Michael and I played Settlers with you on our FIRST DATE.

I don’t mean to say that you did everything right. You taught me that trash cans were called dumpsters and then sent me into the world to make a fool of myself. I have a grammar problem because of you—this makes texting very difficult. Remember when you took away my binky? Rude.

Well, mom, I’m really proud of you. I brag about you all the time. The NY Times’ Crossword? My mom thinks that’s pretty easy.  I love telling people that you made my gauntlets. We both like dark chocolate (I've obviously always liked it, see picture below) and baths. We have the same eyes. When people ask me what color my eyes are I just say, "same as my mom's" because I don't think they are a color, really.

I may be trying to be a bit too much like you in the picture below, though.

I’m proud of our relationship, too. Thanks for making that happen. I call you when I have good news, or bad news or no news. One thing, before I go…somebody asked me what my favorite five minutes of the year was as part of a silly quiz thing. It was sitting with you on the couch at Christmas, watching our elf family dance. No question.

 

Happy Mother’s Day! 

Love you,

Sarah