So, my mom

Yes, shockingly enough, my mother is still alive.  She has not gone the way of most of my family members.  Although some day she will, and that will be the hardest day of my life.

My mother and I butt heads.  She can be passive aggressive, I can be stubborn and short with her.  She cooks with as much butter as a cow can produce, I like to cook "clean".  She can be over-the-top dramatic, I despise drama.  She hates swear words, I swear all the time (shit...see).  Hey we are like the odd couple...wait, is that wrong in some warped kinda way?

I love my mother, but she drives me crazy (it really isn't a long a trip, right down the PA turnpike).  When she asks the same question over and over in a slightly different way, it makes my head want to explode.  When she assumes things should be a certain way because "that is how it should be", I want to move to Denver (pretty sneaky, sis).  When she gossips to me, I want to turn the volume up on the TV.

However, I love her and she drives me crazy for the same reason, I see a lot of myself in her.  So when I see faults in her, I am probably seeing my own faults.  She tends to dwell on things, so do I.  She can be overprotective, so am I (my son will never play football, and I'm sure he will complain like I did).  She tends to stay in situations because she is afraid of the unknown, and I wish I could say I did not do the same thing, but I do.   She tends to make things about her...um...crap.

The good thing is I also I see the unbelievable in her, and I can only hope I have picked up some of those traits.

She is an avid reader.  She can not find Facebook on her computer (and no, she still has not found this blog), but she has a Nook and she downloads books probably as soon as they are printed (or is it non-printed?).  While our tastes in books are different, I know that my love of the written word comes mainly from her.  She always had a book in her hand when I was growing up.

I can remember when I got into reading, I would mention what I was reading, for example The Valachi Papers, and she would say she read it.  She never ceased to amaze me on how well-read she was, and still is (please mom, start reading Game of Thrones).

Do not mess with her kids, in any way, shape or form.  I am 35 years old and she still wants to make phone calls on my behalf, if she feels I have been wronged (so if you get one from my mom, I'm sorry).  She believes in protecting her flock and she also believes that a hug can be as powerful as a smack to the ass (my mom would say bum) when you have done wrong.

While I tend to try to do the opposite of my father when it comes to parenting, I find that a lot of times the right way coincides with what my mom did.

She is a tough West Mifflin chick from a Heinz 57 family (we are mutts), and she grew up in Pittsburgh when Steel was not just part of the football team name, it was a way of life.  Neither of us had affectionate fathers growing up, we both lost those fathers early on, we both went thru financial problems, we both had to deal with my sister as a teenager, we both went thru my divorce, and yet we have both picked ourselves up off the ground, dusted ourselves off and said "is that all you got?"  Although she still will not join Crossfit.

While she may like her house to be a blistering 76 degrees, and I like mine in the 68 degree range, I am very lucky I have her to tell me to turn up the heat...over and over and over and...OH MY GOSH MOM, I GET IT!