Today is my mother's birthday. She will tell you, repeatedly, how old she is (in the context of, "I'm 62 years old--you go upstairs and get it.") She has a wonderfully healthy attitude about being a mother and being a woman. It doesn't matter what our bodies look like, if they remain perfect, because we have each carried children, and we have them to love.
My mother and I lock horns from time to time. Sometimes it's just a matter of, we are here all the time, together and both focused on what's best for my little ones, yet I can't get past my own childhood mama drama, because who she is now is different from who she was then.
But that's her job! She's Grandma! The perpetual good cop. She does a great job of sticking with the rules and doing things the way that I prefer, but she's still Grandma.
How wonderful that because of our unfortunate career situation, my children know my parents so well that there is never an issue, never a concern.
Let's not forget, as well, the long hours and tireless efforts put in by my mother, and my father, back during the days of The Boy's cancer battle. We know very well that my mother can be given credit for the healthy state of my relationship with my husband--if she hadn't assumed so much responsibility for The Boy and really stepped up to become a member of the starting rotation, to use a baseball analogy, I don't know what would have happened. She became an additional comfort figure to The Boy, and having someone whom our children trust so much and love so much is an amazing thing.
She helps and supports us day in and day out. I try to repay her even a little bit by helping in the house and shopping and cooking meals, sometimes elaborate ones at her request. But she has taught me that if someone does something for you to help you out in troubled times, often you can't pay them back; you can only hope to pay it forward.
I am thankful for my mother. She is 62 today. May she continue to be healthy and happy and have a life full of joy.