Mother's Day

I do love Mother's Day. I spent the day at my aunt's house with the family, eating and drinking and laughing and all that good stuff. The morning at home had my house smelling gorgeous as I baked a Lasagne Pie to take, which got snapped up faster than I could have imagined, and I ate far too much home-baked cheesecake and marinated tofu. Oooooh, baby.

My mother is a really funny person. And I mean that in a funny ha ha kind of way, with maybe a little bit of funny peculiar on the side. Okay, a lot of it. Okay, fine. She's about 65% funny peculiar, 30% funny ha ha, and 5% black coffee.

For example, my mother saves lives. She goes to work every day and because of her, sick and premature babies get to go home with their mothers in a bassinet instead of a casket. She does it as if it's the most natural thing in the world and when she gets home at night you ask her how her day was and she says, "Oh, good. Bit of poo, bit of placenta. What's for dinner?" I don't even think she knows she is actively practicing medicine on babies and saving their lives, because sometimes she talks about it like she's just happily changed the oil in someone's car, or done a nice big pile of paperwork. 

That's the funny peculiar part. The funny ha ha part is that even though she spends all day, every day, burping and cleaning and intubating and resuscitating and basically being neck-deep in nothing but babies, and remains a consumate unflappable professional the entire time; but the second someone outside of work brings a baby anywhere within a five hundred metre radius of her, she starts to coo and blush with excitement and demands immediate cuddles.

See? Funny.

My mother is also funny in other ways, but aren't all mothers, really?

I love to make fun of my mother, not only because she's several kinds of funny, but also because she is a real conundrum. I'm not even sure my father understands her completely; she is an oddly rolled combination of fierce, whip-smart, and butterball soft. But I can never make fun of her too much because no matter what, my mother is always painfully sincere. And also because when I look at her, I see some of what I'd like to be in 25 years. And I'm okay with that.

I love my funny mother.

xoxo