Me: Some people think I'm not funny, Mom.
My Mom: Yeah? Some people are assholes.
My mom is the kind of mom I can never solicit advice from, unless I'm actually fishing for the answer "They're just jealous." As in, "Someone was mean to you? They're just jealous." My mom has a hearty bias--one in which I am adorable, clever and always perfectly lovable. It's sweet of her.
My mom is the best kind of mom. For one, she's super competent. When I was little, I felt bad for the kids whose moms seemed scatterbrained. My mom was always on top of everything--sewing the best Halloween costume in my class, delivering me to classmates' birthday parties with a meticulously wrapped present in hand, or even showing up at my school with the lunch I didn't even realize I had forgotten on the kitchen counter. My mom could cut my hair, fix my toys and find the things I lost.
I still count on her competence, like when we went to Montreal together and my mom figured out how to ride the indecipherable metro system even though it was all in French. My mom doesn't speak French. She's just good to have around.
My mom is a personal chef, which is the perfect job for someone who's skilled as well as warm and loving. She loves to feed people, which is wonderful when you're 32 and survive on Trader Joe's. Whenever I go to her house, she puts a plate of food in my hand, brings me a sweater and asks me all about my day.
She's also so much fun to be around.
|My mom in Calgary, ready to pounce on 7th row seats for Pearl Jam. |
We followed Pearl Jam's 2011 Canadian tour together because she is my favorite.
My mom lost her mom to cancer when she was very young. I think that awful fact granted me a very early understanding that moms are impermanent.
I can't imagine what my life would be like without my mom--so generous with her food and affection, so eager to accompany me on adventures, so tirelessly willing to hear about my every irritation, and so subtly funny.
I appreciate her every damn day.