What it Takes to Make Me - Mother's Day Edition

In light of the current recession, I did not send my mom flowers this year for mother's day. But even if I had the money, I could never be rich enough to buy her a gift to show her the insurmountable appreciation I have for her. My brother Derrick (onenightinbraziel.blogspot.com) wrote my mom a very touching ode that pretty much sums up how much she means to her three children. After reading it, I wanted to jock (because that's just what I do) but it just wouldn't be right to do something that's already been done. And while I do want to write something in the spirit of Mother's Day, I want to write something that is unique to the very special bond my mother and I share.

My mom and I have always had a close relationship. I'm the only girl in the family, and I'm the oldest so I had often needed my mom to make me not feel like such an outcast in a house full of men. As I got older, I became more angry. I resented my dad for not being around and I resented my mom for not standing up for me. I often found myself the center of a lot of arguments because all I wanted was attention, and there was never enough attention for me. Regardless of how badly I acted out, my mom was there to listen. I'll never forget the one day she put me in place.I was mouthing off - as usual - and something I said struck a nerve, and my mom pushed me (physically). Rather than think of how my actions provoked the reaction, I cried "child abuse". Needless to say, regardless of the conflicts we had, she was always there as a mother and a friend. She reminded me how beautiful I was and anyone who I dated would be lucky to have me. Although I didn't always believe it, I knew she believed it.

When I came out, it was a turning point for our relationship. My mother is a very spiritual person, and my sexuality and her faith just didn't mesh. At first, we just didn't get along and it was increasingly difficult to communicate while ignoring the huge pink elephant in the room. After my sophomore year of college, I decided to move out of my mother's home and , as opposed to returning to school, I decided to move in with my then-girlfriend. I didn't care about the future, but I wanted to prove a point: no matter what her faith says, it couldn't change me. My moving out was my way of saying either accept me or leave me alone. Regardless of my stance and regardless of our disagreements, she never stopped supporting me. If I was going to shack up, she'd let me use the vacuum; if I invited her for dinner, she'd come and enjoy it - whether or not she really did is still up for discussion; if I needed to vent about our relationship problems, she'd listen. And when me and my then-girlfriend broke up, she was still there with a shoulder to cry in to let me know that "this too shall pass".

Today, my mom and I have a great relationship. I admit that I don't call her as often as I should and I still tend to be very hard-headed, one thing my mom has always done is she has accepted me for who I am. If I felt like dressing like a skater or a whore, she'd still love me, she'd just remind me to put on a coat since it's winter. If I was having a bad day, she'd make some fried chicken and turn on my favorite CD. When I tried to kill myself, my mom reminded me how selfish it would be because she loved me and it would be the worst pain in the world to lose her only daughter. Regardless of what I went through, my mom always was always there to remind me how proud she was and how much she loved me. Some days, all I had to look toward was the words of wisdom from my mother to help me get through each day; and regardless of what she was going through, she never stopped being a mom.

I don't think I ever tell my mom "thank you" enough, and I don't think there are enough "thank you"s to express how much her mere presence has been to help me grow into the woman I am today. Through all of the things I've experienced and the many lessons I've learned, my mom has been the sole person who was always waiting at the finish line with a hug. When I lived in Virginia, everyone loved my momma. Everyone wanted to be her"noodle" and to this day, people still love being called "noodle". I never quite got it, but I used to hate having to share my mom. Everyone loved Mrs. Denise and there was never enough Mrs. Denise to go around. But now that I'm older, I'm proud that Mrs. Denise is my mom. I am so proud that she inspires and helps uplift others every day simply by existing. My mom has been through so much in her lifetime, and yet and still she wakes up every day with faith that this day will be better than the last.

Now that I'm older, I find myself not only trying to embody my mom but I even dress like my mom. When I come home, we share a few drinks and just talk about life. We share clothes, we gossip, we cry, we sit in silence. But the time I spend with her is priceless. Just being in her presence allows me to see what kind of woman I should be. While we haven't always seen eye to eye, she has always had faith in me. Regardless of what life has thrown at her or at me, she is still my sista girl/mom. Simply saying "I love you" just doesn't do justice to the woman that she is. But since there are not enough words or not enough dollars to show just how important she is, the best form of flattery is imitation. I just hope one day kids will be begging me to call them "noodle" too.