So I’m going to preface all of the following with this statement, sure to be controversial:

My mom’s better than your mom.

Today is her birthday. So I’m going to dedicate this post to her.

My folks, probably mom in particular, didn’t receive the recognition they deserved for all of the stuff they did, not until years later anyway.

I remember being young (4-5) when mom worked nights, and my older sister was in school. I remember the lunches with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and the “s’more” from the microwave. I remember sitting on the family room floor with her as we played He-Man.

As I got older, I remember being a more integral part of the Christmas cookie production process, and even getting to help ice the beloved cut-outs. I remember being in second grade and on a school field trip to St. Louis’s The Magic House and telling the entire bus, “Hey everybody, today is my mom’s _____ birthday!” In my defense, I was 7. I didn’t know that you aren’t supposed to announce women’s ages.

I know that now.

Over the years, I gave my mom her fair share of headaches. You know that line “I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it?” I heard that a lot…that and “you want to live to see your next birthday?” And it wasn’t because I was some demonic kid…I just did a lot of little things (or didn’t do the little things I was told to do) that caused unnecessary tension in our relationship. I was a typical teenager. But even before that, I remember being 9 or 10 and mom asking me “what happened to my sweet little boy?” *GUT SHOT*

As I got older, I found new ways to irritate my mom. I got a tattoo up in Sturgis, SD and came home and showed the family. Mom was not amused. Then she found the one on my back that I sometimes forget about and was none-too-pleased. I was in my 20’s for those particular shenanigans.

I remember vividly mom finding my stash of beer in the trunk of my car and storming into the house with it. I was 19. She was pissed. My dad’s response was “of all the beers, why Natty Light?” (I was in college, dad. I was working two jobs and it was cheap.)

But through it all, mom has always been one of my biggest supporters, and always wanted what was best for me. I’m very fortunate in that regard. I know I’m blessed in ways many people are not, and for too long I took it for granted.

So happy birthday, Mom. Sorry for all the times I made you worry about me. I hope you have had a wonderful day and, even though you won’t read this, likely, unless someone emails you the link, just know that I love ya.

Disclaimer – the tattoo in the featured image is not mine. That’s a Google Image Search.