Mi Madre

This is my mom:


*Hi mom!* (She loves natural pictures like this)

Today is my mom's birthday. She's turning 37 or some other attractive young age like that.

I often hear people talk about how great their mom is, how she's the best cook in the world, etc etc. And look, I think that's really sweet- and I'm sure your mom is a lovely person. But, I'm sorry; there's such a thing as objective truth, and that means not all of our moms can claim the title of greatest. If everyone's special, nobody's special, right?

And my mom? Is the best. The B-E-S-T. Do you see what I did there? I SPELLED the word 'best', so you know I mean business.

When I was in third grade, the first year we got lockers at my school, I opened up my locker one day to find a brand new bookbag with a little note pinned on, wishing me a great day. It was one of those drawstring knapsacks, made entirely of denim, with a red plaid flap that buckled over the opening- clearly there's no accounting for my taste, but I loved that thing.

When I turned 20, she threw me a surprise birthday party, and when I turned 21, she made pina coladas for us in the blender. I can't tell you how many parties she helped me host in junior high and high school- surprise parties for friends, New Year's celebrations, swim team functions, going away parties. She suffered through exploded hot dogs in the microwave, water fights, pop spilled on the keyboard (that was probably more suffering on my dad's part), and the great Christmas Cookie Scottie Dog Expedition of Infamy.

Growing up, I did everything- tee ball, soccer, gymnastics, tap, cheer-leading, ice skating, band, horseback riding, choir, piano, school plays, basketball, swimming... I don't recall ever being told I couldn't try something. She sweated through 10 years of swim meets, which has got to be the most boring sport in the world, and even went so far as to interest herself in the whole thing, supporting me and my entire team- not to mention feeding us. She quizzed me for spelling bees, ran lines with me, drove me to morning practice at 5am, and she's the reason I was able to go to college.

She's my shopping buddy, my confidant, my number one fan and who I hope to be as a wife and mother. Quite simply put, she is the best with all capital letters and spelled out backward and forwards at least three times.


So happy 37th birthday, Mom! Thanks for being the B-E-S-T-T-S-E-B-B..... oh, you know what I mean.