I think this is the first time that I have been apart from my mom on Mother’s Day in my entire 23 years as a daughter. I wish that I could be home right now, making my mom some delicious brunch, and spending the day together having fun, watching movies, and probably cleaning out my dresser drawers (I WILL GET TO IT, MOTHER).
But although I can’t actually be there, I can use this blog post to talk about all of the things that make my mom awesome.
Let’s talk about how, even if I were at home right now, it would be impossible to arrange a Mother’s Day surprise that would be nearly as elaborate and well-executed as the surprises that she puts together for us every Christmas, birthday, Valentine’s Day, or any other celebratory occasion. This is the lady who BROKE INTO my apartment on my 21st birthday (while I was in class), covered everything in streamers and confetti and left Diet Coke, chocolate pizza, and an assortment of mini liquor bottles on my desk. Slightly amazing.
There is one very upsetting thing about my mother, though. You know that omniscience that is granted to mothers to allow them to know things that the rest of us just can’t? My mother’s got it in spades. The lady is ALWAYS RIGHT. Even if it takes me 6 years to realize it (looking at you, ugly prom dress), she is always, always right. And it only took me 23 years to figure it out.
Her resumé includes raising two daughters who, in addition to being a little stubborn, a little melodramatic, and a little crazy, are also incredibly photogenic.
This blog is actually the perfect place to talk about my mom (and I do mention her frequently), because she is really the one who taught me how to cook and bake. She makes the most delicious food you will ever eat, and I hope I can one day do the same, and make it look as easy as she does. She’s always the voice of reason when it comes to eating well and being healthy, advocating for everything in moderation and depriving yourself of nothing. Everything I know (and lots of things I don’t know!) about food and love come from her, and I wish that I could be home right now, watching her scowl and surreptitiously remove some of the butter from whatever dough/batter I’m in the process of making.
I love you Mom also give me the Reporter Bag you never use it.