Mom: Why We Love Her.

My mother is pretty cool. She raised three kids completely on her own, is obsessed with health and fitness, teaches Zumba, runs half marathons and 5ks, and places in the top three at the 5ks, has a huge knowledge for crap no one cares about (this must be where I got that talent from), is a gifted writer, is always open to offer up advice about anything, and is the grandmother who sends cards/candy/loud toys to her grandchildren at every holiday because she's out to spoil the kids and drive the parents nuts.

That's a big list of cool stuff to love her for, but that's not even the tip of the iceberg.

This past Thursday was my mom's 58th birthday. It was a good day, but at the same time it was particularly rough. My newest niece was born (that's a good part, obviously), but my grandfather was in the hospital, preparing for a surgery that could have very well ended his life, and then we ate at a Mexican joint that didn't serve margaritas. Terrible, how can you eat fajitas and not wash them down with tequila?! Anyway.

My mom, being herself, had to be everywhere at once. So off to see my brother and his family, we went. She never once let on how stressed she really was, or how she, along with everyone else, was a ball of nerves about Pa's surgery. No, instead she smiled, laughed, took a gazillion pictures, and carried on. She did the same thing, minus the pictures, when we visited Pa. 

On her feet, my Ma is admittedly, not always graceful, just watch her two step after three margaritas and a beer, but that day, she handled EVERYTHING with a grace and strength that can't be taught. Way to go Mom.

The next day was the old man's surgery. And again, everyone else had fear written all over them, but Mom on the other hand, just did her usual; handled all this business, asked questions, went with Pa to pre-op, and did it all without even a ripple in her sea of poise. I don't know how she does it. I sat there next to her just waiting, fidgeting, talking way too much and too fast, and she was calm. 

We love Ma for this. She's the glue that holds our family together. My Grandma passed that position down to my Mom many years ago, and it's a position that fits her well.

Of course there are many other things Madre is special for. For instance, her Adam Sandler version of Good King Winseslas that stops my kid from crying every time, or the rocking chair she let me borrow, that she rocked my brothers and myself in, her homemade chicken and dumplings when I catch a cold (yes 23 years old and Mommy still makes me something to eat when I'm sick), or how she remembers EVERY.LITTLE.THING. the grand kids tell her, and she buys them gifts based on what they told her. She still goes to every ball game and event she can make it to that the grand kids have. She takes amazing care of my Grandpa, her dad, which is hard because he doesn't complain unless he's starving. And the list STILL goes on.

My point for this post is, all moms are special to their families, they/we all bend over backwards at times to take care of everything, but no one has a mom like mine. Mine does it all for everyone. Always has. I know one day she'll tire of being the old bottle of Elmer's and it will be my turn, I just hope I can do half as well as she has. 

Music To My Ears...sort of.

So today I had to take a long trek across the great wide state highway with the baby. She did well in the car, but I had a thought as I jammed out to Sia's "Chandelier" and Gemini Syndrome's "Stardust" back to back for the gabillionth time, because that's apparently all Sirius felt like playing on Hits and Octane today.

Is this really the crap I want my kid to grow up on? Songs by a creepy looking possibly albino guy who's live show, was not that impressive, (he really is creepy looking, YouTube, Gemini Syndrome, look it up.) and some about swinging from chandeliers and the lyrics sound as though some one doesn't know what number comes after three?

But it gets better. All of this was followed by, dun dun dun, freaking Jason Derulo. *insert eye roll/face palm here* If you know me, you know I'm no fan of Jason and his songs about trumpets and ham sammiches. I don't like ham sammiches. Maybe if his songs were about tuna salad sammiches, or a philly steak sammy, I'd be a fan.

Anyway, I started wondering, what happened to the days of good music? By good I mean mostly clean, and not saying things like "Disregard females, acquire currency.", except with the f-bomb, and the B word, *Thank you Paige, for that one*, and no auto tune or reverb. Ya know, when you actually had to sing.

Then my thought got deeper.

What if she doesn't like all the classic rock/country/pop/heavy metal/show tunes/Elvis that I listen to? What if one day she tells me "Mom, Led Zeppelin sucks, and Conway Twitty is lame. I will only listen to the Billboard hits, and HipHop Nation on Sirius. By the way Five Finger Death Punch is a stupid band name." What do I do then?! Just let her listen junk about twerking on table tops and driving cars with names that I can't even spell? Or worse. What if she likes Steel Panther? =|. (YouTube Steel Panther, your ears will bleed, and you'll be offended, but you'll get my point.)

This is a real concern. I love music, and I want her to love music too, just not the crap that is, well, crap. I'm trying to educate her young, but she already hates show tunes, so I think this ship was doomed to sink from the beginning. Who doesn't live show tunes? Is this kid even human?

Now I know how my mom felt when I made her listen to all my "noise". And my kid isn't old enough to listen to "noise" yet...Lord help me, my ears hurt already.