Riding down the escalator, while at Macy’s today, I looked into the mirror and saw a tall, leopard print wearing woman with stained red lips... If you know my mother, you know this description fits her to a T. Though it wasn't my mother's reflection I was looking at, it was mine.
As I get older I more frequently catch myself having a "Mom moment." As I continue to have these such "moments" (i.e. finger snapping while on the dance floor, finding more than one leopard print item in my closet, and wearing lipstick.) I instantly freak out - I like to think I have a bit better rhythm than she does.
Why is it we never want to grow up to be like our parents? They don't think the $200 pair of shoes we need are a necessity, they know nothing good goes on past curfew, or a car that runs gets you from point A to point B the same as a new one. If only I knew as much as I thought I did! But now that I'm older and wiser, somethings never change (!), I aspire to have have her qualities.
Her Beauty.
I don't know many mothers her age, (creeping past a wise 50), who are as healthy and beautiful as she is. When people ask if we are sisters it isn’t too far off! Not to mention she fits into clothes I grew out of in high school!
Her strength.
After being on my own for 4 months now, (with a bit of her financial support), I have realized life isn’t always glamorous. How she survived a divorce, closing of her business, all while trying to make mortgage payments and care for 4 young children – I have a lot to learn. And she tells me I’m brave for moving to NYC – I wonder where I get my courage from!?
Her style.
If I said I developed my love for beautiful things myself, I would be lying. After growing up in her clothing store (almost literally, I remember throwing fits if I was not allowed to spend all day there with her.) She always taught me not to care about what other people think, wear what you love – as long as you look fabulous! Even if it means wearing leopard print 350 days a year. She gets really wild, not wearing a print in her case, the other 14 days of the year.
Her forgiveness and understanding.
We all make mistakes, she will be the first to admit, but no matter the difficulties we may face she always reminds me to count my blessings. Even after I drove my 1990 Lincoln through the backside of the garage, which I eventually confessed to, she reminds me we must be thankful for our safety and well being. Material and money can be replaced, but we cannot be.
As many times I may have told her she was the worst mom in the world, I think we both know that is far from the truth. If I could take back the stress I caused her growing up, I would. After all she couldn’t have been that bad, I mean, look at me.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
All my love,
Danielle
No comments:
Post a Comment