To say my mom and dad are my biggest fans is to make a ridiculous understatement, somewhere along the lines of calling the Beatles a rock band, or referring to Vin Diesel as just another thespian. Everything I am in my life, I owe to them. Happy Mother’s Day to my mom, and all the mothers out there.
My mom always wants to read my writings, although she warns me not to send her anything too dark, and I respect that.
My mom hangs out on my Facebook and supports me, and waits until later on to ask questions about how Facebook works.
My mom doesn’t really like fantasy football, but she’ll always offer to play if we need one more to make an even number of teams. Her first draft pick will always be Peyton Manning, because she thinks he’s a good person, and she hates people who make a lot of add/drops because she doesn’t think that’s the right way to coach a team.
My mom has always let me feel my own pain and make my own mistakes, and then when the moment came that I realized it and needed help, was there for me.
My mom worked harder to try and explain algebra to me than my algebra teacher ever did.
My mom found out I actually graduated college twelve years after she thought I did, and didn’t kill me. Barely.
My mom has never forgiven the Baltimore Colts for cutting Johnny Unitas.
My mom never missed me in one of my high school sports events, even though every one of them was awful.
My mom broke her ankle at the age of 75, playing on the monkey bars with her granddaughter.
My mom still let me drive, even after I plowed through the side of the garage in her car.
My mom once drove six hours round trip on a weeknight just to see me do stand-up comedy for fifteen minutes.
My mom always let me talk her out of an extra nickel for the tax when I bought comic books with my one dollar allowance, especially if I was buying one with the Thing in it. She liked him because even though he was a famous super-hero, he was still his “Aunt Petuniah’s bashful blue-eyed baby-boy.”
My mom eventually gave me a raise on my allowance, and made me keep a ledger with it so I could learn to handle my own money. It sort of worked. She also tried about a dozen times to try and help me to organize my comics, but we both eventually gave up.
My mom let me move out at seventeen to finish high school with my friends three hours away, even though it hurt.
My mom found out my favorite food in the world is the Seafood Bisque from Gaido’s in Galveston, so she bought their cookbook and learned to make it. And every single time she does, I eat so much I make myself sick on it. And I’ll continue that tradition.
My mom wants me to be able to handle failure too, so she always asks about that when she asks how things are going with the writing.
My mom would straighten my hair for me growing up when I was in high school, and wanted long hair because I was playing in a band. It made my hair as dead as hay, but it was still what I wanted, and she could sympathize because she knew what it was like to have curly hair and want it straight. That’s the curse of curly hair, especially in the humid Gulf Coast conditions of Beaumont.
My mom took years and years of piano lessons growing up, but when I told her I didn’t want to take lessons because I didn’t want “anyone telling me what to do,” she didn’t make me. I was seven, by the way, and already raging against the machine of authority. I play piano now, but not nearly as well as she does. Last time I was in town we worked our way through some old songbooks with me playing the chords and her playing the melody, and it was the most fun I’ve ever had playing music.
My mom is sometimes amazed at the things I can do, and I don’t think she realizes I can only do them because of her and my dad.
Happy Mother’s Day, mom. All that I am is because of you. I love you, and I hope I’m not through making you proud yet.
– Reid Kerr wants to be sure Dad knows he gets credit for most of those things too, but Father’s Day isn’t here yet.