My Mom....

This is my Mom. Wait. I'm not going to post a picture. She hates to be in pictures. It would be unfair to post one when trying to honor her. (You're welcome Mom). My Mom is awesome. All growing up my friends always told me how cool my Mom was. I just always saw her as my Mom. I remember one time when I was 13 or so and we were in Malad at my Aunt Sandra's house for a Price family reunion. My mom was getting picked up by her 4 best friends in the world for a girls get-a-way weekend. I remember trying to ask her something about what to do with one of the kids. (Even though my Dad was around I still felt responsible). Only I couldn't get an answer out of her. It was like once her friends showed up she reverted back to junior high. All giggly and stuff. I was so baffled to see her that way. I think it was the first time I recognized that she was actually a real person. Not just a Mom. I had never seen that before. Once I became a Mom myself everything made sense to me. I can honestly look back over my childhood at all the things my Mom did and now I understand. Completely. Like the time I got caught in a ginormous lie and my Dad came down to the bowling alley and interrupted the birthday party I was attending to dole out a punishment. I realize now that it wasn't the actual lie itself, but that my Mom was hurt that I felt like I needed to lie to her. Like I didn't feel safe enough in our relationship to tell her the truth. As a Mom that's a huge slap in the face. I now truly know how she must have felt every time we packed up our house and moved away from all our friends. And hers. I only know this because just 2 weeks ago I asked her how she was able to be so excited every time we relocated. She let the guard down and told me she hated to move as much as we did. She was just as afraid as we were. I never felt that fear. Ever. She was that good. As I've gotten older (and had more kids) my relationship has changed with my Mom. She is now more of a friend. Someone I can call and voice my concerns too. She's been there, done that. I like that I can call her and ask if it's normal for 9 year olds to burst into tears constantly over ridiculous things and she assures me that it is. And then admits that she just remembers someone in our house crying incessantly at one point or another. Then laughs. And assures me that this too shall pass. I love that I can call her anytime and ask stupid things like how to boil eggs on Easter. I do that every year. And every year she asks how I can cook such great meals and still can't boil eggs. And then laughs. She laughs a lot. The good hard belly laugh if you get her on the phone long enough, or travel with her. I'm usually laughing as we hang up the phone. It brightens my day. A few years ago a really good friend of mine lost her Mom. Her Mom was really young too. It made me think differently about my Mom and made me realize how much I still rely on her and her wisdom. (Mom, I know you laughed in your head when I said that about your wisdom. But. It's true.) Everyone always says you eventually turn into your mom. And it is oh so true. I'm turning. But I'm glad. As I was waiting at the front door for Katherine to pick me up so we could drive to the train station for our girls get-a-way I felt like my Mom. From my clothes, to where I placed my jacket on my arm, and the way I postured myself. I was my Mom at that very moment. And I knew how she felt that one day when her friends were picking her up. I was experiencing the giddiness she felt when she couldn't give me the responsible "mom" answer to my question. She was going away where she could be "Deb" again. The "Deb" that only is able to come out when she doesn't feel responsible for all her kids and their needs and wants. I'm so glad that I'm old enough to see my Mom as both. Deb and Mom. They are two different people. And now I get it. Thanks Mom. For all your sacrifices. Worry. Stress. Guilt. Sleepless nights. Laughter. Made up stories because they made a good point but were entertaining. Laundry. Dishes. Moves. Love. And everything in between. I truly appreciate you and all you have done and continue to do. I love you. Happy Mothers Day.