A Not So Traditional Mother's Day Post

I usually do not acknowledge holidays on this site, let alone ones that are entirely commercial created, such as Mother's Day. However, since many of my readers feel Momma Told Me is an homage to, well, my mother, it seemed fitting that I should offer a candid take on this role in my life. It's cliche, but I agree that one is not a mother simply because she bore children; it is a title that is earned through care and bonding. And the absurdity of acknowledging this gift, of having a mother, or being a mother, simply because greeting card manufacturer's designate this particular Sunday, is, well, absurd! In life, so many things are fleeting. One may spend their entire childhood not knowing the woman who gave birth to them, only to reconnect and build a relationship as an adult. Others may only have memories from childhood to hold onto. Essentially, this applies to all relationships; grab them while you can, and appreciate them every day.

As a child I was always hungry for attention, even with the luxury of having a, disabled, stay at home mother. You may recall Momma was diagnosed with stage 4 Hodgkins Lymphoma when I was nearly 4; and though she has enjoyed over 20 years of remission, the battle took a toll on her years of youthful health. Because of this, my parents were two entirely different magical creatures, in my child's mind. Momma was like a best friend; a snarky, easily irritable, quite sarcastic, best friend. Pop was more like Santa Claus; he would lay down the law when I was naughty, but the time I got to spend with him was especially magical because it was considerably less. But this is about Momma, right? Well the woman behind the blog, behind me, was known for her declaration that I, her only child, was a 'contractual obligation' to her marriage. That's probably the last thing you'd expect to read in a Mother's Day post, right? Well, our relationship is anything but ordinary.

The number of photos I have of us together, or even her alone, likely can be counted on my combined digits. All her photos always seemed to conveniently disappear if she didn't care for them (a skill I've almost mastered myself). The photos I do manage to hang onto are from my adult years, where I've since learned to be much more systematic of chronicling these memories. You see, I only get to see Momma but once a year lately. The point? I don't have photos of Momma and I frolicking through fields when I was a babe, and giving Momma a hug as a kid was more like trying to wrangle a squealing pig (she's not big on physical affection), but my Momma was the perfect Momma for me. I have memories of Summers spent with fun filled schedules of crafts and exploring, afternoons of Young and the Restless and brownie batter bowl licking, and a Gilmore Girls rapport to challenge the wittiest of screenwriters. I love my mom (but don't let her hear that kind of mush).

So, while I have been asked countless times what I would, and will, do for Mother's Day this year, the answer is as simple as; I sent a Greeting Card full of FREE product coupons, and a simple text message at midnight. Me: "Happy mom's day and sh!t" Momma: "Thanks" You may look at this and think I'm crazy, or perhaps this lazy digital generation has gone to my head. No. Momma and I have one of the most open communication channels I know. I can tell her anything, and expect a gritty, honest, soundboard back. I don't always hear what I want, but I always know it is real. There are few people in this world I can say that about with certainty, which makes what 'Momma Told Me' worth it's weight in gold. Do I worry she doesn't know how much I love her? No. Just like I am certain she knows I understand how much she loves me. The words don't need to be said; they're just words. It's memories like Momma buying me a Pig Cupcake at the Roger Water's The Wall concert last year, walking the fire exit down to the community mailboxes every summer for 10 years, or building that infamous homemade lava lamp; that's how I know my Momma loves me. No greeting card/flowers/words needed.