Warning: Super Sappy Mother's Day Post

It's this time of year when I get most nostalgic. Don't get me wrong, Christmas! I love you more than coffee, and puppies, and white sand put together, but I don't feel the same sense of nostalgia then as I do now. When the snow starts to melt (or when nothing happens because I moved to Florida and it's always the same), and the tulips my mother planted in the 90's still manage to bloom along the driveway at the House where my sister's family now lives, I think about my beautiful life and all of the people who have blessed it.

I turned 16 in February of 2004, and a few weeks prior my mother died. Some of you reading this blog today knew her, and some of you didn't. She was beautiful, she was incredibly kind, and she was an unabashedly bad singer.  I don't know if I'm thinking of her today because it's almost Mother's Day, or because I am one (a mother) and I'm living in toddler-land with some questions. Valen pushed her nephew about fifty times in the last few days, laughs like a villain after, and then runs away. She walks/runs like she has a full diaper even if she's naked so it's hard not to laugh. How do you tell a small person, who the other day pulled feces out of her diaper and fed it to our dog, that she could hurt her best friend? I could try, "It's not a joke" like I did when she was punching the window with her shoe but that just made her belly laugh, repeat verbatim what I said, and smash it harder. I need guidance. I need a Gilmore Girls marathon and a whiskey and coke.

It's definitely because of Mother's Day. 

I think people usually expect me to be upset on Mother's Day. After all, everyone is celebrating their mama's and ours is gone; however, I'm never sad on this day. I always end up feeling nostalgic, but also so thankful and so proud to have been raised by such a beautiful soul. I have no bad memories of my time with her. She devoted her entire life to raising her children. She wore fur coats to the bus stop and always had throat lozenges in her purse (usually melted). Certain memories fade, like how she smelled or what her voice sounded like, but others are as new as the day we made them.

I want to make sure, no matter what happens, my daughter feels as loved as I have felt. I want her to know that she is the most important person to at least someone on this planet, and that she is more special than she'll ever know. My mother inadvertently taught me how precious life is, and I'm going to try to do the same for my baby. 

I hope this weekend, when I'm feeling nostalgic and saying weird things about flowers and birds, you're all giving extra tight hugs to your mamas and/or your babies. Love your moms for their weirdness, because they love you no matter what. 

Even if that weirdness involves singing Tub Thumping, by Chumbawumba when you have friends in the car. Or sleepwalking Step Brother's style (thanks for that genetic freak show). Or wearing double coats, long underneath short. Or eating cream of spinach. 

And moms, don't worry about embarrassing your kids. I know from experience that those memories will be their most steadfast, and most cherished when you're gone. 

Even if that embarrassment is caused by you chasing down their school bus in your pink fuzzy robe because they forgot a very important book. Or because you made them apologize to a store clerk and mall security guard for stealing a teddy bear pin. Or because they made you turn in the VHS rap tape project you made in kindergarten for extra credit, that your teacher had the whole class watch while you were home sick. xoxo