How to be a Mom

I’ve always admired my mom. But now a mother myself, I understand her. I’ve leaned on her. Cried to her. Yelled at her. And will always rely on her. As I approach 30 with two kids, two dogs, a house and a husband. I still need her. Almost daily. I even feel bad sometimes. Like I should let the world have her.

It’s hard to pin our best memory together. I could ramble on over millions with my dad. He was a teacher. Summers off. We’d spend time on nature walks. Feeding birds. Playing ball. Camping. All my favorite activities are qualities from my dad. But the things that make me round are traits of my mom.

I have her round crystal blue eyes. Actually, that’s just my favorite inheritance of hers. I’m pretty much her same image. My husband’s always sighing over our similar personality traits.

“Sometimes I think you’re more OCD than she is,” he always jokes over my freakish cleanliness.

My mom taught me the basics of life. The importance of a healthy meal. A classic sense of style. How to shop the best deals. To take a little time for yourself. And never assume someone else will do it for you.

She always wore someone else’s shoes. Teaching me compassion. She encouraged my education. And raised an independent daughter with complete happiness.

Most importantly, she taught me that regardless of endless responsibilities, nothing is more important than family. She never missed a game. Even as a full-time working mom.

She’s strong. Smiles at someone else’s happiness. Would rather give, than receive. Adores her grandchildren. Loves her stubborn husband. And will always remind me I’m blessed.

So, the favorite memory with my mom? Too many to remember.

Decorating sugar cookies every Christmas Eve. Green and red sprinkles. Those hard little silver balls. I would get bored of the millions of cookies. Move on to something else. There she would always be. Red apron. Arms caked in flour. Rolling and cutting out holiday shapes.

Dressing our best for Mother’s Day. Flowing silk dresses. A fancy brunch. And always capturing our day next to any flowers in bloom.

Some of my favorites at the Fox Theatre. Pretty dresses for the Nutcracker Ballet or Cats. Our special time together. I always dreamed of becoming a ballerina. I think she did too.

Or even during my high school senior year. When I gave her little reason to smile. She still traveled with me to horse shows. Gingerly held my horse while I got ready. He’d rub his head against her back and she’d startle, swat him away. She didn’t particularly like horses. But made the effort for me. Even knew all the tiny details. Like how to braid his hair.

But now I know, that’s just what mom’s do.
So, happy Mother's Day, Mom. Thanks showing me how to be a mom.

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