Once upon a time, a woman named (something else but who chose to go by) Pilar was born.
Well, I mean, she wasn’t born as a woman. She was born as a baby, like so many are. Except THIS baby was special. When she was born, the doctor held her, looked on in awe, and said, “You didn’t have a baby, you had a doll.” (It was sweeter and less creepy in Spanish, which is how he said it. Cause they are brown people.)
Then she grew up and had a baby, who everyone said was a really ugly baby (me).
Then when HER baby grew up, she told her,
“When i get old, i want you to put me in a home. And I’m going to make them put a tiara on my head and call me Princess Pilar!”
Amen, mama. Amen.
So, even though she’s not old yet, only turning 35 (::ahem:: she’s dyslexic and loves that when it comes to reporting ages) and I’m not going to put her in a home (rather we’re just going to go to dinner), I still wanted to say happy birthday to Princess Pilar, the mama God chose for me and the mama I’d always want if I had the choice.
Thank you for teaching me so many things, including when something is worth it, and how to smile when life is never boring. ;)