My mom is one of the few parents who has learned to navigate Internet and text messages. Sometimes this is awesome (when I’m having a bad day and on of her “I love you” text messages pops up) and sometimes this is not so awesome (when it’s 5:30 in the morning on a Saturday and I’ve had too much to drink the night before), but I know it’s always done with good intentions in mind. My mom likes the little gestures; she always has. In high school she would randomly put miniature cards in my lunch. And I loved it. My friends loved it. She sends cards for all holidays and is helping both me and my brother with our Disney movie collection.
For the better part of my 26 years my mom has been embarrassing me. Not on purpose but because teenagers are so sensitive (I know, I was one). They care about everything. My mom? She doesn’t care what anybody thinks. And so, yes, for years this embarrassed the hell out of me. Why couldn’t she just be calm like other moms? No dancing to music in movie theaters, no handing out my number to waiters (who were probably too old for me), no telling of dirty jokes.
I moved out of my parents’ home just two weeks after graduating high school and haven’t been back for more than two weeks at a time since. It’s been almost 9 years since I left and since then I’ve gotten to understand my mom a bit better because I started to get to know myself a bit better. And you know what? I dance in the movie theaters and I tell dirty jokes. I have fun, though twelve years ago I would have said I was embarrassing myself.
Today, when she visits, there is a lot of craziness on both sides. If she dances, I dance with her. If she tells a dirty joke, I laugh loud. Luckily, she’s stopped handing out my number to boys.
I got my mom’s crazy streak, her tendency to bruise easily and her ability to cry at anything.
And I couldn’t be happier about that. Well, I could probably do without the bruises.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. I love you and wish I could be home today.