happy birthday, mom!

 

Today is my beautiful mother's birthday. I am not sure how old she is and I don't really care. She is not defined by the number of years in my eyes, but by the love and patience and humor and joy she shares with everyone around her every year.

Having a Michael Jackson moment at
the Grand Canyon, before there was such a thing as
Michael Jackson moments. This may explain my fear of edges,
and my love of red sandstone cliffs.

I was looking through old pictures tonight, after running into mom and dad sharing a lovely, romantic dinner at Tuscany, and I can't always remember the moments or the outfits or the events but I do remember so clearly the love. Mom taught me to cook, to sew, to love reading and 50s music, to appreciate a good crossword puzzle. She has been an inspiration for patience and unconditional love and dedication.

I'm not sure who was teaching who how to cook
in this one. And, why-oh-why, was I always wearing a
mid-riff belly shirt?

I love her quilts, every stitch is an "I love you." I love her blue eyes which transmit clarity and honesty. I love her hands, which have always hugged us and shared and created with us and led all of us to be good people, and now they do the same for our grandchildren.

I love my mom's jacket, the three Xmas stockings and
the fact that the shit-eating grin on my face
in this picture is identical to the one Sloane gives me.
I think they call that "paybacks." 

Mom with her girls in 2010.

Family cruise in Cabo...those ARE my kids!

I love that she taught us to draw and paint, and do puzzles, and crochet and needlepoint, and make pottery, and plant flowers and plants, and bake bread and iron everything from shirtsleeves to pillow cases. I love her potato salad and Thanksgiving dinner and french breakfast muffins and that she gives my dad shit when she beats his ass at cards and that she gets tipsy off two glasses of wine or one margarita shooter with the sombrero on and a whistle-blowing amigo shaking her head when we're in Cabo. I love that she will rock out a Wii wakeboarding run or hula-hooping and just as easily makes Jello, feeds you Sprite and puts a cool rag on your head when you have a fever.

Mom with her next-generation girls (notably Ute fans) in 2010.

I love that she hand-made us angel food cakes with custom frosting for every single birthday and hid Easter egg baskets for us until we were in our 30s. I love that she drew paper dolls for us and helped us make dresses and outfits for them to wear with the little tabs.  I love that she is a more passionate football and basketball fan than most guys I know. I love that she has 300 snowmen and Santa Clauses and her house looks like a Christmas shoppe (intentional E on the end) during the holidays. I love that she tells me I am a good mom and a good wife and a good person and that I see pride in her eyes when she looks at me.

Happy birthday, mom. I love you more than you know.