In my “normal” days, mom and I had a lot in common. Being close was easy. We imagined the same things for my future. A sort of 2.0 version of her life, if you will.
It was difficult for her when that changed. Twenty-six years of knowing the same daughter and then all of a sudden I’m this strange person. This weirdness had always been inside of me, waiting to make an entrance. To me it was a huge relief to let it out. To my mom I’m sure it was like some crazy plot twist she hadn’t seen coming. For as difficult as that time in my life was for me, it seemed just as hard for her. I can’t speak to why that was, exactly, but I imagine she had to go through some sort of mourning process for the person she had known for all of my life. I mean, I was here, but I was definitely different.
What makes my mother amazing, and perhaps not-so-normal, is how she has embraced my weirdness. She has gotten to know and understand me these days, and remains my biggest cheerleader. She has worked hard to create an amazing (if just a little bit different) relationship with me. I’m not sure she has any clue how much that means to me.
Even though I know she would really love for me to get married, she is the person who sent me the article I mentioned about not getting married.
Even though my constant use of F-bombs seems to give her a weird little tick, she recently sent me this awesome adult coloring book, full of them.
Dude, seriously. She’s just that cool.
And even though I know she would love for me to give her more human grandchildren, she totally treats my dog like a grand baby, always bringing him presents, asking for pictures of him, and yelling at me when I yell at him.
I know it’s been tough for her. I know that the things I want out of life are not what she imagined for me on the day we met for the first time. (I really tried to find a copy of our first photo together to insert here, it’s a great one. But the computer-gods are not cooperating at the moment.)
This woman is a bad-ass mother. She’s my mother. And I couldn’t ask for a better one.
One quirk have in common is that neither mom nor I can hold off on gift-giving. We always tell each other about the gifts we are getting the other ahead of time. My birthday isn’t for another month, but I already have a birthday gift in the form of a beautiful duvet cover to match my new blue bedroom on my bed.
So, I don’t feel bad ruining the surprise once again. Look at your Mother’s Day gift, mom. (Which I found at an online shop via an Instagram page you suggested I follow.) I’m sure you’ll fucking love it!