Until she got miserably ill, my mom was the bomb. My best friend. My mentor. We had a wonderful, loving childhood and my mother was our champion, our cheerleader, and our go-to in times of trouble. I had a dream recently where I needed to get Madison packed and on a plane in Orlando to head back to school. She had forgotten all about it and we were scrambling around the house. I was freaking out, yelling, and frantic about getting her to Orlando and suddenly there was my mother who drove like Mario Andretti, pulling right up into the airport building to drop off the luggage and Maddy. Typical Connie. I thought it a fitting dream for Mother's Day.
I suppose I'm now the mother of this guy. He's the only one left in the household for the most part and from 7:30 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., give or take a couple of hours, this guy belongs to me Monday through Friday and the occasional weekend. I'm not going to lie, that dog is another part of my life and I love him dearly. He didn't get me anything for Mother's Day though. I marked that down.
Happy Mother's Day to all those women out there who have mothered someone or something in life. Cheers to you!
1 comment:
So glad you got treated by Tom. Maybe that air conditioner split thing will drown out the noise from his piano serenades at 1 am!
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