yes, she is

my mom called not long ago just to say thank you. she had just finished reading the last post about my b-day.

about 12-13 years ago i went through a battery of pyschiatric tests for candidacy to become a pastor. the quack who did the testing believed that i should try to be more like my dad instead of my mom.

now my dad is a wonderful, unbelievable man (that's why mom married him), but i am my mother. shortly after being told that my mother wasn't worth emulating, i decided that if i could be half the woman my mother is i was going to be ok. i also decided that i would claim, with open arms, those parts of me that were just like her and not apologize for it.

and i've loaned mom out many times. she can give a hug like nobody else and she hugs indiscriminately as if it's necessary to live.

she used to stand on her head at parties when i was a kid and now gets down on the floor to play with her grandchildren. she makes the best macaroni and cheese in the world and would feed the world if they showed up at her door.

she doesn't care if you are gay, straight, black, white, or purple... she'll still dance at your wedding.

she is opinionated, and almost always right (which has often driven my brother and me crazy.) she used to call us pumkins and little indians. and she rocks!