A tribute to Mom! In mandatory premarital counseling our pastor asked, “What does your mom mean to you?” I burst in to tears! How do you answer that with semantics? It’s Mom, Mommy, Mama! In second grade, a mean girl in my class (probably not really a mean girl — but in that moment she was), said, “Your mom is stupid!” I ran into the girls bathroom and cried in a bathroom stall. In high school, I was asked to stand up in front of the church congregation on Mother’s Day and read an essay about what my mom means to me. Two sentences in, I was blubbering and embarrassed and probably made a lot of people uncomfortable. What does my mom mean to me??? I can’t even answer that. She is comfort, she is unconditional love, she is nostalgia, she is support. She is also embarrassing, and frustrating, and different, and same. She is what I want to be and what I don’t want to be. She is my biggest fan, and the person I least want to disappoint. I roll my eyes at half the stuff she says. Then, later those words come barking back at me. She was right. She was right. She was right. Damnit! When I gave birth to my own, I finally got it. Sorry, Mama. Just sorry! I love you lots and lots of peachie pie!!