Monday night, as I was falling asleep, I planned my February 15th blog post — I was going to write about how awesome my mom is, in honor of her birthday. Unfortunately, when I woke up in the morning, I’d completely forgotten about my blogging intentions. I remembered my mom’s birthday, of course — I even called and sang her “Happy Birthday” (a family tradition, the song is very important). I just forgot that I’d wanted to post about something specific.
However, my (maternal) grandmother’s theory is that birthdays should be celebrated all month. And so, I’m posting my “I love my mom” post today. Here goes:
My mom is, of course, a very accomplished person in matters unrelated to being my mom. However, as her kid (and the author of this blog), I feel it’s my prerogative to write about what I want, and so this is about what a fabulous mom my mother is.
I love my mom. My mom is the best mom I could ask for (which is why it’s so lucky that she’s mine). She has always supported me and always been there for me. Even though she travels a lot, she’s only a phone call away. When I was younger (still living at home), she’d call every night to talk while she was on a business trip. She never missed a single one of my theatre performances (or our end-of-the-year banquets) in high school, and she was just as involved in my dance group as any of the other central dance moms.
My mom would make sure to spend time with my brother and me individually, special outings just for us. When I was little, maybe second grade, my mom and I went to see a show at the State Theater and Palomino’s for dinner. It was amazing — I felt so special, so adult. I think it started my love of fine dining — if nothing else, it’s the first fancy restaurant I remember well.
My mom and I travel very well together — the east coast college trip, Japan, three Korea trips. I love traveling with my mom. We have very similar tastes regarding dining and the same philosophy about eating on trips (that it should be foods we can’t eat, and restaurants we can’t visit, at home), and given that I love good food so much, this is very important. We enjoy many of the same things on trips (well, except for the fact that she’s a bigger fan of walking than I am — I walk because it’s necessary to get places; she walks because she enjoys it). We have a similarly “what will be, will be” attitude (i.e. if something goes wrong, don’t freak out, just deal with it). . . . Of course, on my part, that could be because she’s always there to fix things (so there’s no point in me getting upset), but still, she’s typically really quite flexible about dealing with whatever comes up. Regardless, my mom is my favorite traveling companion (sorry, Dad — the road trip back from Bryn Mawr was nice, too).
My mom listens to me. Always. As far back as I can remember, I’ve rambled on (and on, and on) to my mom — about what I did that day, what I might do, what someone said today, what someone else did — basically whatever thought happened through my mind. And she’d listen, and remember, and ask questions. No matter how inane it is, she wants to hear what I have to say — it is, in a word, wonderful.
Above all, my mom loves me, and she accepts me, and she always takes my side. Oh, that isn’t to say that she would just let it go if I’m in the wrong, but she always supports me. As I’ve been coming out as trans, she’s always put me first. I’ve worried about how my being trans might affect her various friendships, but my mom’s attitude is “love me, love my kid.” She’s made it clear that she isn’t going to pretend I’m not trans, or avoid talking about me, in efforts to not make waves with her friends (who, to the best of my knowledge, have all been good about me being trans). My mom stands up for me better than I stand up for myself. How could I ask for better?
Happy birthday, Mom. Have an utterly fantastic year. I love you.