Happy 50th, Mom!

For the past several weeks, I’ve been trying to piece together a blog post that does justice in describing the impact my mom has made in her 50 years of life.

Sometimes the words come easily or the sentences flow smoothly, and other times I write in circles and stare at the same blank screen for an hour straight. My writer's block usually comes from the pressure I put on myself to be “perfect” - to make others happy, to perform well, to be relatable.

In this instance, though, I’ve hit a standstill. I am entirely biased and fully convinced that no one else on the planet could be as lucky as I am to have found as great of a role model, cheerleader, and partner in crime in their mom.

Her official birthday has now passed, and I sit here revising and regretting that I couldn't upload this just 24 hours sooner. But here goes nothing.

It’s almost an everyday thing on Facebook that I scroll past funny stories or photos that older adults and parents share about their kids - whether they’re proud of a report card, an accomplishment in sports, work promotion, etc. Yet it's not all that often I see it the other way around.

As a daughter - and maybe as someone who just uses Facebook way too much - I think it’s just as important to express the sense of pride I feel toward my mom today and every day.

And I try to remember that I’ve only been around for 22 of her 50 years. There’s a lot of life she’s lived before me or my older brother were in the picture, and I recognize that she continues to play different roles in many other peoples’ lives. But between you and me, a Mom is my favorite thing she’ll ever be, and one of the greatest blessings that I could have ever received.

My mom is my role model.

Neither of my parents were ever super strict growing up. As long as my brother and I got our homework done, made our beds maybe five out of seven days of the week, and didn’t talk back - it was all pretty smooth sailing.

It seemed like the end of the world at the time, but the new episode of Hannah Montana could wait until my multiplication flashcards were done, and pulling my covers up nicely would only take me 30 seconds to do in the morning before school. My mom’s expectations weren’t harsh, but she was consistent in the way she enforced them. Years later I appreciate those small chores for what they were, and am thankful to have a few healthy habits programmed into my routine now that I'm on my own.

My brother and I weren’t perfect - and still aren’t - so when we fell flat or chose to push her buttons, my mom clung tightly to what she expected of us. At the same time she was always willing to hear us out and forgave easily. She celebrated our victories with Wendy’s Frosty’s and small “thinking of you” gifts, and every gesture - no matter what size or scale - made me feel like I was the most loved child to ever exist.

Looking up to her means admiring the way she interacts with the world: with her friends, the students in her classroom, and even complete strangers. She is kind and patient, yet spirited and fun-loving, and I can only hope to make others feel even as half as special as she does.

My mom is my biggest cheerleader.

There was never a volleyball game my mom missed, school project she didn’t try to help me with, or late night mental-breakdown phone call in college that she didn’t pick up for. This sentiment speaks to both of my parents, and really the generations upon generations that have demonstrated unconditional love and support within my family line.

Something about motherhood, or parenthood in general, and juggling a full-time career with full-time responsibility at home continues to impress me. I’d be a fool to sit here and count the number of sacrifices she’s made on behalf of my brother, step sisters, and me. I’d be even more naïve to think that it’s easy to frequently miss General Hospital episodes or lose a night’s sleep over worrying about family, but she has managed to do so with a smile on her face time after time, and night after night.

An exciting part about getting older is that I’m finally at an age and in a position to start spoiling her, where she might sometimes let me pay for coffee or accept a nice gift. There's a certain peace of mind that comes with growing up and growing closer on our own accord.

She’s someone who will listen to my craziest ideas and most irrational thoughts, yet finds it within herself to remind me that she’ll “support whatever” I decide in the end. My mom is understanding and reliable, and I know that she is probably the only one who will get behind a bold shoe purchase or spontaneous road trip.

My mom is my partner in crime.

The older I get, the younger my mom seems. It doesn’t make much sense, and I realize that 50 is a big birthday, but somehow it appears as if she’s aging backwards. She is truly the most beautiful person I know both inside and out, and I’m crossing every finger and toe on my body that she’s passed her good genes onto me.

In all seriousness though, I’m extremely thankful that she has instilled values and key life lessons from the beginning. I still respect the boundary between parent and child, but there’s definitely more room to sit back and just each enjoy each other’s company now as adults. It’s a pretty neat thing to accept and embrace, especially over a beer or few.

She is my secret keeper, favorite breakfast date, and test dummy for any odd recipe that comes my way. I know that there will never be a dream too big or worry too small that my mom isn't willing to coach me through.

Happy (late) 50th birthday, Mom. In reality you deserve so much more than this four-minute read, but hopefully this is a sweet start to a new decade for you. Love you so much!