My mom is still the best mom ever

Happiest Baby Ever
Originally uploaded by Minarae.

My mom was a month away from the age of 26 when she had me. At the time, she had no idea that she would be a single mother by the time she was 30. All she knew was that she was glad to finally give birth to me since I was three weeks overdue. At first, the doctors thought they had miscalculated the due date, but at 9 pounds, 9 ounces and 23 inches long, I was pretty much a month old baby the day I was born. I was fair, with a head full of blonde hair that never fell out and blue eyes that never did change. She got to spend her first few months of motherhood reassuring people that yes, I was her child since both she and my father had dark eyes and hair and olive skin that did not match mine. She gave birth to a genetic anamoly, which should have been her first clue about the kind of trouble I would be.

When I went to preschool, my mom ended up being one of the teachers there. She loved being with the kids, I think. And I know she loved teaching. When my father left, she had to stop teaching preschool because that was not going to pay the bills for us. Right away, she went and signed us up for welfare and Medi-Cal (I was a clumsy child and she could not afford to leave me without insurance); within a month she was able to go back to the welfare office and tell the guy she'd found a job (with insurance!) at a hospital and would no longer need it. The man told her that he had never seen someone get off of welfare so quickly.

Years later she started going to night school to get her credential, but ended up quitting when she realized that she would have to take a year off of work to do her student teaching. She couldn't afford to do that and still take care of me, so instead she kept working. She's been working at the same hospital ever since she got that first job, and there are people she works with who have known me for most of my life. Her boss was at my wedding, and he remembers me as a 6 year old.

We were really not rolling in the dough when I was a kid, but my mom always made sure I had what I needed and then some. Music lessons, horseback riding lessons, Girl Scout camp every summer, the newest cool toy, a car to drive when I was 16...I got it all, really. The car wasn't brand new and sometimes I would have to work for the new cool toy, but I never felt like we were any worse off than any of my friends.

I got a D in trig in high school and I have never seen her so mad; the next semester I got an A in pre-calc just to make sure she wouldn't stay mad. When I went to USC, we discovered that the mortgage she held on a condo that she rented out helped me qualify for more financial aid, so she took it back off the market and didn't sell it until I graduated. She was the first person I called when Todd broke up with me and moved out, and she rented the truck to move me out of that apartment. The day I broke my ankle, I couldn't find her when I called because she was off getting a check for my rent so that I wouldn't get evicted. I still call her when I'm sick or upset or just haven't talked to her for awhile. She lives 15 minutes away from me and we see her at least once a month, but I still miss her sometimes.

We fought a lot when I was a kid. I think we fought every single morning my junior year in high school. I was stubborn and a pain in the ass and entirely too smart for my own good. I drove her as crazy as she drove me. Adulthood did wonders for our relationship, I have to say. I'm incredibly blessed to be able to call my mom my friend. Everyone loves my mom. Seriously, if you asked any of my friends about my mom, they would all tell you how much they love her. But none of them love her quite as much as I do.

And today's her 57th birthday. She's had an awfully full life, but she's got a lot of adventures still waiting to happen.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you, always and forever, amen.