Shy Wild

Today is my Mom's birthday. Like most women her age, she's 39. Since I wrote about Dad, I figured I better drop a line about how effing awesome she is as well.

Like most moms, she's mastered the drying-tears, band-aid, chicken soup sort of stuff. She gives good advice and teaches life lessons thoroughly and in the correct order. She makes a mean meatloaf and always has a Kleenex. And so on, infinitely... She has comprehensively owned "Mom" in the traditional sense of the word. (She had a really good teacher.)

"Traditional" she is not, however. Anyone who has met my mom usually walks away delighted and confused. She is simultaneously gentle and outrageous, caring and out of control, shy and wild. She has mended every one of my broken hearts and given me the most debilitating hangovers. She is a tiny, mild person who once threw a chair at a biker bar and likes to burn shit. She is a wonder, a juxtaposition personified. She is an angel and a pirate.

I speak to her almost every day without fail. No one else hears the stripped-down, honest (sometimes scary) inner workings of my mind. No one. But that's because she isn't just my mom, she's my best friend. She gets the 3am call when I'm crying or laughing or both. She answers. My gypsy lifestyle and unconventional habits are not always easy for me but she gives me the strength and confidence to keep doing my thing. As a fellow unconventional, I suppose she's already navigated these waters and to keep doing one's thing is the only useful strategy. I need her like I need oxygen.

I often tell people that once you meet her, I will make better sense. We seem to always love the same things which makes buying her gifts effortless and we both can't have the music too loud. But, thinking deeper about this, I'm not so sure. We're very different actually. She has tact, for example. Luckily, I got her eyes.

Happy birthday, Mum! I hope your day is as rowdy, loud, fun, and special as you are!