I Love My Mom

This morning, my uterus tried to kill me.  Over the years, I have come to the unfortunate realization that my reproductive system apparently was constructed by Satan himself.  And Satan, who seemingly is particularly cranky during the Christmas season, thought it would be a very funny thing indeed to give me the gift of menstruation during my Christmas vacation to my parents' house, and just for extra giggles, he decided to make this month extra super duper torturous by sending his minions to do this:

After four ibuprofen failed to make a dent in my crampage this morning, and because I was in so much pain I could hardly move, I texted my mom, who was downstairs, and asked her to please bring me some bread, water, and more pills.  She came up right away with everything, and as soon as she was in the room, I burst into tears.  You'd think that the mother of a 36 year-old wouldn't have to deal with owies and tears anymore, but clearly that's not the case.


After I calmed down, my mom let me know that, right before she'd received my text, she'd gotten a phone call from my sister, who was in the living room, asking her if she could please bring her a warm washcloth.  Considering the methods we were utilizing to contact my mother, one might believe my parents dwell in a palatial estate, but actually the only thing between the family room (where my mom was) and the living room (where my sister was) is a hallway.  However, at the time of the phone call, my sister was in the process of nursing her newborn son, so she wasn't exactly mobile.  That hallway might as well have been the size of Canada.


All of this is to say that my mom, who has a terrible cold, spent her morning receiving calls and texts from various rooms in her house and then dashing from room to room, saving her daughters.  That is because my mom is a hero.

Here she is flying up the stairs with water, bread, and ibuprofen

If I were to expound on everything my mother has taught, told, or done for me throughout my life, this post would be 10 million words long.  How could I explain everything someone who has loved and cared for me unconditionally for almost 4 decades has done?  Suffice it to say:  if it weren't for my mother, I would be dead thousands of times over, and if I weren't completely dead, I would be utterly physically, mentally, and/or emotionally deranged.


When I trained mentors for children in foster care, I told them that all children need and deserve unconditional care, and the way I defined that for the trainees was:  the kind of care a person can take for granted, knowing that it will always be there.

Yup, that pretty much sums it up

I'm sorry to say that I know I've taken my mother's care for granted plenty of times over the years, but that's just because she's so damn good at being unconditional!  So I blame her.  


Okay...not really.


I'd also like to take this opportunity to give a shout-out to my dad, who did me the great favor of going to the store today and making his first ever, after 68 years of life, purchase of a box of tampons.  Thanks, Dad!

Here are four of my favorite living creatures on the planet