Thanks Mom

Every time I bring home garage sale treasures, hubby should thank my mom.

After all, she is the one that first instilled me with the love of "goody" shopping.  When I was younger, we would ride down the street in the car and she would glance over slyly, looking to see if I saw the same 'Sale' sign that she did.  Then, she would jerk the steering wheel around, make a U-turn and voila, the sale.  At the time, I would sink down into my seat, eyes darting quickly around to see if I "knew" anyone, mortified that mom would garage sale shop in our own neighborhood.  Oh the horrors!  Today, I wish that she was just down the street so that on Saturday mornings, I could grab an extra cup of joe, my one dollar bills, and my junking partner to have a fun morning of treasure hunting.  Alas, she is hundreds of miles away.

Every time I make homemade spaghetti sauce, hubby should thank my mom.  

After all, she is the one that demonstrated that sauce over and over and over again.  There were times that I could close my eyes and predict her next direction, before it flew from her lips.  "And then, Annie,"  she'd teach as she held a whole onion in her hand. "You push the cloves into the onion, so that you get the flavor, but not the chunks!"  At the time, I would sit quietly, waiting impatiently for her to finish so that I could go do something oh so much more important, like say, talking on the phone.  Now, I wish that mom were just down the street so that I could let her taste the variations that I have created from her sauce base, so that she could see that all those lessons were not in vain (that I actually can cook), and so that we could share a family meal together once a week instead of only once or twice a year.  

Every time I play with my kiddies, they should all thank their grammy.

After all, she is the one that first taught me to be silly.  She was the mom that recognized that I was her tight-assed kid, worried and nervous about the world's judgments.   She was the one that showed me  (sometimes by force), that letting go and having fun were OK and necessary.   She made me walk on the beach at night with the family, she made me dance crazy butt- dances in our living room,  and she made me participate and wear a silly costume at the family mardi gras trip.  I won't say that I did any of it gracefully, but years later, I have finally learned my lesson.  And now, I dance in my living room with my kiddies, I tickle their toes, and I play dress up daily.  I drink in their silliness, and I create my own too.  It is the best!  I only wish that mom was right down the street so that she could see it and participate too.

My mom has instilled so much good in me.

My family and I are grateful every day.

Happy Birthday Mom. 

I wish I could give you a hug in person.