I can’t believe you’re still alive…

Mom

Today is your 53rd birthday. (Please don’t be mad at me for telling the whole wide world how old you are!) It seems as if it were just yesterday that you were born… oh wait. That’s what I write when the kids have a birthday.

Wow! 53 years… that’s getting up there. I can’t keep going, because I’m still stuck on you being 53. FIFTY-THREE!!! Amazing.

Ok, so really, it is your birthday. And I’m excited for you. I know you don’t really get into the whole birthday thing. Well, I know that you love it, but you don’t dare let on that you love it. You just pretend that it’s any other day. Which is why you probably scheduled that doctor appointment for today. Seriously, Mom, why did you do that? They are open on Monday.. you could’ve gone then.

But I do try to make your birthdays special… because that’s what you’ve always done for me.

I know that I can’t return all that you’ve done for me. I know I can’t take back all the things I did as a kid… (but trust me, Samara’s helping to make me understand just how you felt all those years!) But I can let you know how much I love you and how grateful I am that you are my mom. I still think you’re the meanest mom in the world. I’ll gladly allow you to have that title until you perish. (But don’t do that anytime soon… there are still too many things that we have to do yet.)

You’re a great mom and an even better Nana. When the kids get home from school, we’re going to call you and hope that you’re back from the doctor’s and working out. (I like to say that… my mom works out… I don’t think you passed that gene on to me.) I just wrote a sticky note on the computer so that I would remember to call. It’s right under the one reminding me to call Butch today and order your flowers.

Speaking of flowers… you taught me to do alot of things in life, but ordering flowers was not one of them. I about melted down yesterday when I had to call the florist there in your little town and describe what I wanted. I don’t know what things are called or what I want or how much things are supposed to cost. And how come of all the places you could’ve lived, you picked the top of that mountain? Do you know that it costs $10 in delivery charges for the florist just to drop it off at the guard shack? It’s a good thing I love you… (Oh and Grandma’s going to get her flowers today too because I’m cheap like that and didn’t want to pay another $10 next Friday to have her birthday flowers delivered.)

But you’re a cool mom in addition to being the meanest. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate you much more. I’m sure this is apparent when I call you to vent about my children. And I know the roars of laughter that come from you is your way of being supportive, because you are supportive like that.

You’re a great nurse, which is good, because there aren’t many around. I’m still not sure how you can work with old people or with bed sores or why you feel the need to take pictures of them to share with others… on the same roll of film as my dance with Bobby, but that’s just you, and I love you for it. I guess someone has to work in wound care, I’m glad it’s not me. But I think your nurse genes skipped me and went straight to Samara.

I love the stories that you and Mamaw have to share… you both really are like unsupervised teenagers and I love to share your stories with others… really it’s just so they know that I had to get it from somewhere… when I tell the stories it goes right back to you.

I love the advice that you give me… like the red shoe advice or the gold shoe advice. That’s always helpful to know. Most mothers would never pass that along to their children, but you do. And in a loving way.

And really mom, all joking aside… I do love you and hope you have a FANTABULOUS birthday…I wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but I’ll see you at Christmas…

And when you make a wish and blow out your candles, could you be selfless and make a wish for me?

That I could be the mom that you are and still look as good as you do when I’m fifty-three!

Love you

Heather

I am thankful for a mother who gave her all in raising me; one who loves me despite what I put her through.