Anyone who knows me knows that my mom is my best friend, my hero, and my life goals. I hope to be half of the mom and inspiration to my kids that my mom has been to me for the past 20 years, but it wasn’t always like that. The things I admire most about my mom now are the things I wish were different about her when I was young, mainly the fact that my mother was not a Board of Ed mom.

In fact, my mom made fun of the Board of Ed moms. The ones who would send emails imploring that everyone who volunteered to bring in a snack for the holiday party had to send a picture of all of the ingridients first to make sure they were not only nut-free, but dairy free, sugar free, and gluten-free as well. “Who the hell has time for this? What does it matter?” she’d rant as I accompanied her to three different grocery stores looking for organic brownie mix. At the time, I was mortified. Why couldn’t she just be cool? No one else’s mom was complaining.

My mom was also one of the very few mothers in my neighborhood that had a full-time job where she was the boss. “Nance, you missed Wine Wednesday last week!” “Yeah, I had a work meeting.” were a common conversation at the bus stop. It made me crazy that she wasn’t close with the Desperate Housewives of Somerset County, NJ. I just wanted her to be cool, but she didn’t really seem to care.

While all of this was going on, my mom was raising me with values that were very different than some of my friends’ parents “You can be whatever you want to be when you grow up.” she said, “but be something. Do something. Be independent and don’t rely on anyone to take care of yourself, but yourself.” At the time I didn’t realize, but I was being raised by a woman whose impact went beyond how much money would be raised at the bake sale.

I used to wish my mom was more like my friend’s moms, who cared about making the perfect sugar and egg free cupcakes for the class parties, but she just wasn’t. She was the mom who’d have her friends over on Fridays in the summer for sangria while I played outside, who attended every soccer and basketball game instead of going to the PTA and Class Mom meetings, someone who loved their child and wanted them to be something more than just another suburban trophy housewife whos involvement in the Home and School Association was the highlight of their lives.

I was raised by a lady who is fearless, selfless, and a total badass. I would rather call a woman like that my mother than a class mom who thrived off of Wednesday night book clubs anyday. In a town of Christina Applegates from

Bad Moms, my mom was a Mila; someone who raised me and my brother and sister to be a good person, to be a voice for those who didn’t have one, to be kind, to work hard, to make something out of ourselves. Who cares if you can call yourself the PTA president? None of that matters if underneath all that prestige lies a rusted heart.