The good witch

Mom:

You birthed me from your womb almost 27 years ago, and apparently, it hurt like hell. I know because you told me. Also, dad never let me forget about his lunch with your doctor in the hospital cafeteria being interrupted by the labor I was putting you through. Dad, I'm sorry, this one isn't about you.

While I don't remember making my way down the dark tunnel and into that white light, I do remember the time in first grade(ish) I went to a neighbor's house without telling you. When I came strolling down the sidewalk on my way back home (like it was NBD), dad was running down the street yelling my name while you met me in the driveway. You were two inches from my face and told me to "NEVER leave the house AGAIN" without letting you know, and I told you about your coffee breath. You tried so hard not to laugh.

I remember you taking me to ballet class and picking me up with McDonalds Happy Meals (orange soda included) in-hand. There was a reason I didn't continue dance after age eight.

You bought me a chalkboard and pointer so I could nurture my talent of teaching stuffed animals reading, writing, and multiplication tables using mini marshmallows; a dream I still haven't given up on.
You also stood by while I made "soup" with every herb and spice in your kitchen so I could practice being a chef in the instance my day job fell through. Neither panned out.

You were there at every school function and church play. You took a few pictures, but thank goodness you never learned to operate a camcorder or else I'd have to continuously relive that "awkward stage" from third grade until I was a freshman in college. It's not that you didn't want to document those precious moments, you honestly just don't know the first thing about technology, nor do you care. That is what is so endearing about you, Glenders. But why you own an iPhone is baffling.

We've seen each others best and worst, of which the latter is far outweighed.

You work full-time, care for a husband, an elderly mom, spoil three grandchildren, chase an active Corgi, and have raised three (beautiful) daughters. You taught me to give my troubles to God and showed me that besides Him, nothing is more important than family.

Although it sometimes takes a glass of Pinot to end your day, you deserve it. That glass of wine is celebratory because your miraculous strength is to be admired.

Cheers, mom. Here's to hoping I raise a kid half as awesome as me so I can finally give you the credit you deserve.




- Emily McP