It’s a Celebration

Like most children, I have a difficult time accepting that my parents existed or had lives before I was born. Sure there are those nebulous years between when my older brothers were born and my birth but I’m not sure those really count. After all, since the world revolves around me what was the world doing before I was me?

As I got older, I realized the world didn’t revolve around me. Worse yet, there still remains a small chance that I am not the centre of the universe.

This time every year I am forced to recall that the world is not a giant holodeck that exists only when I am in the room. In fact, the world and the people in it exist entirely separate of me – or so I’m told. You see, on this date back in 19*cough*cough* a great and wondrous event occurred in a small town in Wales that would later impact my life. My mother was born.

In so far as mothers go, mine isn’t half bad. She’s a lovely lady who puts up with nonsense like children who show up on her doorstep with 24 hours notice. She’s also an amazing cook who should someday write a cookbook to share her fabulous recipes with the world… or at least her children.

Mum is good looking and thin (see photo below taken less than a year after the birth of her first child) and gave none of the lovely thin genes to her only daughter. Not that I'm bitter.

This lovely lady is also a sharp dresser who taught me that if you buy a purse at half price and pay $100, you should only mention the half price part to your spouse when you later discuss your purchases. She also raised me to believe there is no such thing as a stupid question; however, if you ask the same “smart” question enough times, you deserve whatever you get.

My mother is one of those people who knows someone everywhere she goes: shopping at the local supermarket, parking her car at a random lot downtown, and even a museum halfway around the world – this lady knows everyone! My mother is well respected by people who don’t live with her. (And by those that do, she is both respected, loved, and feared.)

Today, on the anniversary of my mother’s birth, I would like to raise a glass of her favourite Champagne and toast this amazing lady. Sure, I wouldn’t exist without her, but more importantly, I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.

Happy birthday, Mum!