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Every Day *Is* Mother's Day 4/30/2004 11:25:11 AM
My monthly column on all things humorous, interesting and relevant or just plain ol' bizarre as seen through the eyes of a blonde mom. STILL YOUR MOM
by Cindy Appel
I'm still your mom whether or not you choose to heed my advice about wearing open-toed, flip-flop sandals on a cold, wet day in winter.
I'm still your mom when you forget your clarinet at home and call me from the school office for the tenth time this year, begging me to drop it by within the next three minutes.
I'm still your mom after you sweetly plead with me all day to drive you to the mall and then make me walk fifteen paces behind you so no one can tell we came together.
I'm still your mom after you wipe my pocketbook clean of its last quarter to purchase a jaw-breaker in a bubble gum machine.
I'm still your mom whenever you ask for my opinion about your outfit and then promptly declare, "You have no taste in fashion whatsoever!"
I'm still your mom even though you don't bother to tell me your teachers need parents to help chaperone an upcoming field trip because you'd die from embarrassment if I volunteered.
I'm still your mom although I can't help you with your math homework on occasion. Remember, math was never my strong point, but I may be able to help you with your English. Possibly.
I'm still your mom even if I have to tell you that you can't participate in a particular activity with your friends. And I really don't care if everyone else's parents allow their kids to participate in these sort of things. Like I've told you before, I'm not their mother I'm yours.
I'm still your mom even when you say, "I hate you! You never let me have any fun!"
I'm still your mom when you come crying to me because your best friend hasn't called you in over a week.
I'm still your mom even if that good-looking boy in first lunch won't ask you to the dance.
I'm still your mom in spite of the fact you've gone temporarily insane and built a shrine to Keanu Reeves at the foot of your bed and hung posters of pop singers with more tattoos than brains on your door.
I'm still your mom, but I don't want to watch Ten Things I Hate About You with Heath Ledger ever again. Viggo Mortensen movies are quite all right, however.
I'm still your mom and I don't care if you think my singing barbershop music is lame. At least you can make out the lyrics in barbershop songs. And what's wrong with my car boasting a Sweet Adeline window sticker?
I'm still your mom and not "your very own personal, private maid and chauffer." It's just not a part of my official job description. Honest.
I'm still your mom whenever I toss your clutter in your room and tell you, "Muck out that pig sty before I get the notion of raising hogs in there. And what's that snorting sound I hear coming from under your bed?"
I'm still your mom even when I nag you to hang up your towels and throw your dirty clothes down the laundry chute.
I'm still your mom after you've kept me up all night for a week straight with the croup, bled profusely all over my shirt, thrown up the entire contents of your stomach on my lap and leaked half a diaper down my leg. Heck, isn't that what a mother is for?
Say what you will about me but always remember this one important fact: Not matter what, I love you and I'm still your mom.
(Happy Mother's Day to all you "moms" out there!) :-)
