Happy Birthday Mama!

Wow, 15, huh? (Mama is dyslexic. It will work out particularly well next year. 25 is not as  hard a sell.) And for the record, “mama” is said like , “She is one hot mama.” NOT like, “momma,” a la that boys II men song from Soul Food.

Back in January, I wrote a list of my top five favorite things about my Dad for his birthday, but to do the same just wouldn’t quite fit for my mom.

Ya see, Mama and Daddy are hilarious, so fun, just such blessings. But they are SO SO different. If Daddy is the one who tells the backwards backwoods adventures, Mama is the one who comes up with delightful little ditties like:

“I was so worried about you that I got my eyebrows waxed. And the man did a horrible job and they start above my pupils and now the space between my eyebrows is FOUR INCHES.”

Or, she borrows my car to go to Houston for the day and returns, a week  later, from Mexico, with only 3 of my hubcaps. “I told gramma and grampa you wouldn’t mind.”

You may wonder, am I poking fun? Am I being passive aggressive? No, not at all. My mother raised me crazy, but that’s one of the best things about me. She’s just so darn fun. It’s impossible to be bored around her.

To get a better idea of what I mean, if you ever meet her, you should ask her to tell a story. Here are a few just for starters.

*How did she wake up in bed with just her boots on that one, fateful morning?

*Why did my chones fall off in the parking lot of Randalls?

*What her name is, what people call her, and why?

*The “lullabye” she used to sing us as children…
*How did she meet cousin Tommy once at work?

Today, celebrate with me the wonderful adventure that is my mother, with nary a dull moment, 40 different wigs, and a beautiful face that i hope i hope i hope i inherit.


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