Friday, May 6, 2011

Momma's don't let Your Baby's Grow Up to be Cowboys

I have been sick since last Monday with what I affectionately term "the plague". The plague came upon our family by way of a very sick little boy... my nephew Aiden whom my aunts and cousins and I all helped baby sit two weekends ago. He came into contact with 7 members of my family and only 1 avoided said plague.
Since then I have left the house exactly twice and had contact with very few people as to keep further transmission of illness to a minimum. I have been exceedingly fortunate to have my own private nurse and cheerleader these past two weeks. People claim they have the best mom in the world... they don't have my mom. I'm nearly 23 years old and I have to say I thank the lord every day for blessing me with my mommy. Yes that's right, on rare occasions when I'm feeling especially pathetic, or weak, or simply overwhelmingly grateful I still call my mom "mommy". I don't believe I will ever reach an age where I cease to do so.
I have held off from writing about my mom because it is one of the hardest things I can imagine doing. The act of putting all the beauty that is my mom into words is impossible. Don't get me wrong... I love my dad and I admire so many aspects of his character and his heart. But my mom and I share a relationship that far exceeds the typical mother/daughter relationship. She is my true and always best friend. I look at her with wonder and fail to see how I can ever measure up. I once told her that if I become half the mother and woman that she is I will consider myself successful as a human being. I still believe this and strive for it.
When I was about 11 I think, I decided that I wanted to play roller hockey. I remember the day of my try-out with unfailing clarity that refuses to dim with time. I was terrible!!! They had us skate around the rink doing different things like skating backwards or skating with the puck. I took three times as long as everyone else and fell over and over again. This adorable little girl came down from the stands and stood at the glass over me and asked if I was ok. I made it through long enough to get outside and dissolve into tears of utter embarrassment and failure. My mom was beaming. She told me how proud she was of me and that she admired my fearlessness. She said she didn't think she possessed the strength it took for me to keep going. She didn't see me as a failure. I love and hate the memory of that day in equal proportions, but it's one of the most accurate representations of the depth of my mother's greatness.
So happy mother's day to all the mom's out there who inspire greatness in their children. Those who are there to catch them when they fall, dry their tears, hold them when they feel their world is falling apart and make them blue-berry pancakes when they have the plague. They never receive enough credit for all that they do, but we gotta keep on trying.

Love you Mom

1 comment:

Priya said...

I love my mommy and i love your mom :)
to mom's who inspire their children to be reach for more. cheers!