Patsy May

Some people - people who like to be scowled at mostly, like her baby brother - call MTW Patsy May. I think maybe her dear dad started it. And my dear dad takes it on sometimes (though mostly he just calls her 'hon' - I don't know what he calls her when he's pissed off). Five people from a giant 20 year old to toddling 20 month-er call her Grandma. To a whole slew of nieces & nephews she's Auntie Pat. To her friends she's mostly just Pat. And just three of us are lucky enough to call her "mom."

With Mother's Day approaching I've mostly been thinking about how much I dread this 'holiday.' I hate hoping the BBs will do something for me without my reminding them (or giving them money for the presents). I blush with the realisation that there is no mom award for which I'll ever be eligible or nominated. I regret some things that are, and wish for some things that aren't. As with most things in life, when my focus is on me there's not that much to be excited about around Mother's Day, and I wish it'd just go away.

And then as I was making lunch just now I remembered - Mother's Day isn't really about me, it's about honouring my Mother. I often carry on about how much I love my dad - and trust me, if anyone has heard about it all my life it's my mom - and I've kind of just expected her to be okay with that. And to know that I love her too. That's what mom's do, right? We put up with not getting Christmas presents, or being left out of the photo montage LOVE wall (I really DO intend to have her picture there - I just don't have the perfect one yet!)

So I thought maybe I'd try to make up for some of my daughterly neglect in a blog post. Because nothing says I love you like online media, right? Without further babbling then, I present to you my mom:

Patsy May is funny. She forgets sometimes, but she loves to laugh. And to sing. And to create. She has her father's way with words and her mother's sharp tongue and together they shine a bright clear light on the world. She's petite, but she carries herself in such a way that she is never unnoticed in a room. She's stylish and classy and always dresses the part.  She has such an eye for beauty and an ear for harmony that every where she goes - and she goes a lot of wheres - she brings back sights and sounds and experiences to share. In the words of one of her Grandsons, "Grandma could make cardboard taste good" - though she hasn't tried cardboard, she does love to cook for her family and friends, to leave us all nourished and nurtured and healthy. She's a small town girl and an ardent world traveler. She cares enough to be honest, and to hurt when her honesty is taken the wrong way.

This is my mom. Who loves her family. And takes care of us. And prays for us. And wants nothing more than for us to be happy and well. And who, like most moms, often puts what she wants aside for what she thinks we need. Thanks for all you've done, Mom. And for all you still do.

This is my Mom. Who I love. And who more than anything these days I wish I was more of.