I wanted to write a Mother’s Day post…but I just don’t have it in me. Not because I hate my mom, I don’t. I miss her. I talk to her almost every day if only to call and say hi. But really? My mom and I’s relationship history? Is kind of tumultuous. I picked up a lot of bad habits from her when I was growing up…like her belief that we need a man in our life to be happy. Like my former co-dependent tendencies that I discovered only after my ex boyfriend suggested I seek counseling to find out why I had commitment issues. Sucked for him but everything I talked about and learned about this? Made sense to me. I actively resolved to cure myself and be more attentive about my relationship habits.
But despite my appreciation for my mom these days? I almost moved out and transferred schools senior year of high school because I couldn’t take her being overbearing and protective. It was probably better I didn’t because hindsight tells me living with my step mother probably would have been worse. Then senior year? Junior year? I don’t remember, but it was in high school, I took a public speaking class and we had to write a “tribute speech” at the end of the semester and I? Wrote mine to my mom. I cried. She cried. It was pretty special. And not in the Ralph Wiggum sort of way.
These days though? I consider myself to have…2 and a half moms. My own birth mother whom I adore and wish I were closer to, my step mother who counts as half a mother…if that. (I’m not a fan if you couldn’t tell…) and in the past year and a half, boyfriend’s mother has taken a larger role in my life. Almost like a second mother if you will. This of course is a good sign for the future and me? I’m just lucky that way.
I could tell a million stories about times when my mother was there for me – all the track meets she’d stand in the rain, the home ski meet when she stood out in the cold for a couple hours while i raced, the endless band concerts, and of course, when she drove me to my dad’s so he could bring me to the airport the next morning to fly out of Albany into BWI to start my life in DC. She called me when she got home – about two and a half hours later – to find her boyfriend MIA (he was out drinking as always) and cried to me on the phone about how really? She just didn’t want to be alone because she was sad…she didn’t know when she’d see me again.
I could also tell you about screaming matches, tears, how she yelled at me when I got super duper screaming excited when I got accepted into NU because she had a headache. But those? Not important. She’s been there for me more than anyone. She was always the first person I called when something good…or bad happens. I’ve promised that when boyfriend gets ready to propose? Not only will he have to get my father’s approval, but he’ll have to get my mom’s first. All the times I was neglected or blown off by dad, boyfriends, friends? Mom’s always the one I cry to because mom gets it. Mom’s been there and done all that. There’s something awesome about your mom automatically sympathizing with you no matter what.
I’ve surprised her a couple times since I moved down here, I’ve acted like the baby whenever i go home – taking charge of the car, sleeping in and making my mum take me shopping. I was going to surprise her next weekend, unfortunately…airtran doesn’t yet fly to Burlington and the trips otherwise were too expensive 
Alas, I conspired with my sister, ordered her tulips and had sister pick them up. It was a nice surprise and…the least I could do.
I can’t wait until boyfriend and I move closer north and can see BOTH of our mothers regularly. I can’t wait till I can just pop up to Burlington for a weekend with the Crazy Puppeh (what she will be referred to from here on out as she has begun destroying couch numero TRES) and see her and my sister. Because my favorite relationship of them all? Is the one i have with my mom…and my sister. My sister will call me and we’ll tell one another something, say she tells me about a new boyfriend. Me? I call my mom and say “Sister has a new boyfriend…did you know that?” Or…i call mom and tell her about something…and she’ll call my sis, and sister will call me. It’s kind of a triangle. It only took 25 years to get here cause we? Weren’t always this close. But since i’m older and not living so close to home? I appreciate it that much more. How can you not?
Anyhow, it’s late and I have a sick boyfriend to tend to and a book to read. The book I’m supposed to read for Tuesday’s book club (not the one I started a different one…) I haven’t yet gotten around to starting because i’ve been too busy reading “Certain Girls” by Jennifer Weiner which is…fabulous. Whoops.
