Happy Mothers’ Day, creeps! I hope you all celebrated in
style. I messaged my mom this morning from the 2013 Portland Expo Alpaca
Show. Any event that boasts “500
alpacas, 200 alpaca ranchers and farmers and leading global alpaca experts” is
so right up my alley. Alpacas are some of the strangest creatures on
this planet. They’re like camel/dinosaur/teddy bears. Things I learned about
alpacas: they’re related to camels, when they run it’s called “pronking”, and
they are in fact edible. Ok, so that last one is an internet fact. We didn’t actually verify with any of
the alpaca experts at the show. Also.
If you make eye contact with an alpaca they may hum at you uncomfortably,
because at the core we’re all socially-anxious creatures.
Anyways. That’s enough about two-toed camelid weirdos
because this post is really about my mother (who is neither two-toed nor
camelid). She is, in fact, a superhero because:
·
She successfully parents five children, myself
included. To-date none of us have been lost, neglected or horrifically maimed. [Note: somebody knock on wood please,
because we learned our lesson about superstition last week.]
·
Though she occasionally forgets our names she
consistently remembers birthdays, favorite dinner preferences, and at least one
daunting childhood memory to share with significant others (usually complete
with photographs).
· She inspired me to start running, and is the only reason I completed my first 5K. She beat me by a hair, but don’t tell anybody. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.
·
By the time I was four years old she had taught
me all the lyrics to “Bohemian Rhapsody”, along with proper headbang technique
so I didn’t break my neck.
·
She once owned a cat named Woogidy Werschmirtle,
and has since encouraged me to call every cat by that name. It really rolls off the tongue once you say it enough times.
·
Three years ago she decided on a whim to join my
rugby team so she could understand one of my life’s greatest passions.
·
On a related note: she survived an entire Maggotfest with her dignity intact, which is more than most of Missoula can say.
·
She gave birth to an 11.5 lb. baby, at home,
without any sort of painkiller. ‘Nough said.
·
She drove 18 hours in two days to deposit me, That Cat and
all our worldly possessions in Portland Oregon, enabling me to attend Alpaca
Expos, and write this blog about living in a new place and meeting new people
and having All Of The Experiences.
·
She somehow telepathically knows the days I am
crying on my way to work and without fail texts or calls me just to say hello.
Just to say she loves me.
My mum was 21 years old when I was born. If our lives were progressing
along the same trajectory, I would have a 3 year-old right now. You guys. I can
barely keep my 3 year-old cat alive, let alone another human being.
I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I think I turned out
alright. And I’m excited to see the human beings my Littles turn into, because
they were lucky enough to be homegrown by my mother too. So! Tell your mothers
you love them, because you wouldn’t be here without them. And remember:
Cheers!
-b
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