The day you became a mother must have been the happiest day of your life. I know how much raising a family meant to you and continues to mean to you now. I like to think you became twice as happy when you had me, your second child, and I obviously made quite an impression because I kept you busy enough to stop having any more children.
Here’s the thing, mom. You’re not just my parent, though. You are a dedicated teacher, sister, daughter, doggy mommy, and friend. You are so much more than the woman who gave birth to my brother and I. Here’s to a few of the other hats you wear that make you so much more than just my mother.
You’re my biggest fan.
It must be exhausting to be so complimentary to me all the time. I don’t mean to be conceited - you truly are always the first person to cheer me on, sing my praises, and make me feel like a million bucks. You make my face your profile picture on Facebook and tag modeling agencies on my photos. You text me daily to tell me how proud you are of me.
Don’t get me started on when you get to chatting with strangers. “Look at how beautiful she is!” “She travels all over the world!” “She is a published writer!”
You have never brought me down or made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Although I get embarrassed or annoyed at times, you build me up every day and you inspire me to be my very best.
You’re my best friend.
It was a rough few years during my teenage angst phase, but now that we’re over that hump, you can be so much more than my parent, but my best friend, the person to whom I can tell anything, from boyfriends to gossip to things I did when I was in high school that I didn’t want you to know.
The best friendship that exists is one with you since I am becoming so much more like you every day, we become even more compatible friends.
You’re a dedicated educator.
We don’t usually talk about your career, but your dedication to your job is not a small feat. For 15 years or so, you have been caring for other children like your own as an elementary school teacher. You have never backed away from a challenge, either.
You’ve worked with special education, at-risk children, and students in all economic areas. When most people would be eaten alive by 20 seven-year-olds, you command your classrooms with tough love.
You know (almost) everything.
When I went off to college, my phone calls to you only got more frequent. I call almost daily because you know things that nobody else would. “What kind of medicine should I take for cramps?” “How should I handle my friend and I in a fight?” “Does our family have any medical history of cancer?” “How do I get rid of eczema?”
You are my personal Google. The only things you do not know are technology-related, but that’s why I’m here. I’ll call you for random common knowledge questions, and in return, I’ll tell you how to call an Uber and add filters to your Snapchat picture.
So, here's to you Mom, but as so much more than just a parent.