As I waddle my way towards my own experience with motherhood, I find myself thinking about and appreciating my own mother even more.
She raised six children (SIX! All from the same dad! And we’re not even Mormon or Irish Catholic!) and has always been an incredible example of grace under pressure.
The guidance, support and advice she has offered me over the past 28 years has never led me astray, and I am even more grateful for it as I stare nervously ahead at the changes our life will be undergoing in the next few months.
She has always loved me unconditionally, accepted Adam into our family with a level of affection that can almost be called disturbing, and has been a doting “Grandmummer” to Gus for the past four years, tolerating all manner of doggy sins from drool covered pant legs, to hair covering every inch of her 400 sq foot home.
Here’s to the woman who gave us all terrible bowl cuts, the woman who happily endures all manner of mocking from her progeny (including being nicknamed Big Mama and The Situation), the woman who leaped out of her chair and did a victory dance when she found out I was pregnant, the woman who posed me like this for a baby picture.
Happy Birthday Mom.
