Hot Momela

Today is my Momela's birthday. (Mom + Pamela= Momela) I won't embarrass her by telling you all how old she is, but I will give you a clue: it starts with f and rhymes with "nifty." To honor her on this milestone, I thought I would write a little tribute to the woman that I become more and more like every day.

We kids thoroughly enjoy being offspring of Momela. That enjoyment is derived mainly from the rare privilege that we hold to make fun of everything she says, does, and wears.

Here's some classic Momela advice, dispensed while driving in the car with her kids, the topic of which none of us can actually remember: "You want to be subtle. You want to be...[pause as she thinks of the right word. Ah, yes, she has found it--] subtle." Hmm. Good point.

Zach calls me Pam whenever I don't finish my sentences. "Can you do that..." What? And then she gets mad at you for not knowing what she was talking about. "You know."

Recently my mom started doing sophisticated technological things like leaving comments on my blog and emailing me. I emailed her and told her I was quite impressed. Here was her response: "Yeah I know I'm the new super user, except I don't know why I'm suddenly typing in all italics."

It's super easy to find my mom in a store: either listen for her sneeze or look for big, poky blond hair.

Momela also takes great, and I mean GREAT, joy in the small things. In fact, when we were all teenagers who weren't going to enjoy ANYTHING just for the sake of maintaining our angst, she attempted to take enough joy in things for all of us. Like the Christmas she dragged us all to some syrupy sweet Christian concert without telling us where we were going, or the hot summer day when she "surprised" us by taking us all to the country music festival that we had made explicit that we did NOT want to attend. Then there was the air show where, as the jets screamed over head, she made famous this line (and you have to imagine her voice getting higher and higher. There may have also been clapping involved): "I love the noise! I love the NOISE!" I also have vague recollections of her being super excited about a demolition derby.

This is the woman who calls you from Florida just to say, "We're out on the deck of some super cool, hole-in-the-wall restaurant watching the sunset and drinking Bahama Breezes and eating fish spread and beach bread." And at that restaurant the waitress probably now knows the name of me, my sister, my brother, the three grandkids, where we all live and what we all do for a living. And oh, by the way, Mom's on her third glass of wine. And crying.

You can't help but enjoy life a little more when Momela is around. Our family learned to love traditions like the 24 hour car ride in a 4 door sedan (with, on at least one occasion, no air conditioning) on our way to Florida each year. My mom and sister and I fight about whose boobs are bigger (mine) and whose feet are the prettiest (mine). And despite all of our eye rolling when she said things like, "I'm trying to be more like Jesus!" we all did grow up to love the Lord. Even though she and my dad totally grossed us out with their public displays of affection, I now appreciate how in love they still are.


She is also the best person to tell your story to--whether it's happy or sad, funny or maddening, Momela will feel all the same emotions that you do about it and share them with you. Like when your boss does something that really ticks you off, you can tell her and she will say, "You have GOT to be kidding me. That is UNbelievable!" And when you need a hug, even when you don't realize that you needed one, she's the best. Just when you think the hug is over and you start to let go, she hugs you tighter and brings tears to your eyes.

I'm pretty proud of my mom. Not only does she love God, but if I really dig, I'll bet I could still find a picture of her dancing on a table at a wedding. Not only was she adventurous enough to follow her dreams to move to Florida, but she was selfless enough to come home after a year to better support her family (oh, and there was that HUGE raise for my dad in the mix, but that's beside the point). Not only did she raise a family, but she also became an LPN, and then an RN, and then, at 46, a Nurse Practitioner.

I have been working on this post off and on all day, but it's so hard to capture the character of my role model, my best friend, and my mom in words. Suffice it to say I hope I'm a lot like her when I'm 50. Happy Birthday, Momela!