Yes, this is post number 100. A lot of TV shows tend to lose their cool after the 100th episode mark, and I'm thinking this might be a good place to end my blog. My producers are balking at the continued cost and diminishing marginal benefit of keeping this thing going. Advertisers are losing interest. And quite frankly the plot is flagging. This might be the kind of post where I have an extremely thin plot where all of my characters reminisce about things that happened over the last few seasons, and I just fill in the gaps with text cut and pasted straight from past posts.
But nope, because this post is dedicated to MOM. My mom, Rose, is basically the most fabulous woman I've ever met. She'd be the most fabulous woman you'd ever met if you'd ever met her. Never has so much courage and strength and stamina and wisdom been packed into such a small woman.
Mom, I could thank you for carrying me around in your belly for 9-er-so months, but I'm sure that was the fun part compared to the sleepless nights I caused, the dirty diapers I (occasionally) produced, the public tantrums I threw, the embarrassment I heaped upon you, and the general yelly-pissyness I exuded during my teenage years. Thanks for those. Thanks for being the kind of woman who can put up with all of that and be the mom I needed when I was ready to listen to what you had to say.
And what you had (and still have) to say, and the things you taught me by who you were, are why I'm happy and successful today. And why I'm so totally awesome and witty and good-looking. Oh yeah, this is about how fab you are. But I wouldn't be all of those things if you weren't such a wise and funny and good-looking mom. You're number one. All others are number two or lower.
My mom is the woman who came face to face with a bear and chased him off. She's the woman who isn't afraid to shut up the racist lady in the Costco line with an awesome comeback. She's the woman who does what it takes to make it. She's the woman who meets her goals. She's the woman to whom God sent me, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
And while I'm talking about awesome moms, I can't forget Sheri. My mother-in-law is amazing. First, she raised Tim. It takes class and skill and some unidentifiable x-factor to raise a son like Tim. And Sheri has all that and more. She's certainly more than I'd ever hoped for in a mother-in-law. Needless to say, I certainly don't struggle with any of the typical MIL nightmares. She's the kind of person I can be friends with and enjoy spending time with. She respects her son, and she respects me. That takes maturity far beyond your average parent's.
It's Mothers' Day, so every mom is getting thanked for the whole birth-and-raising thing. But I want to thank you for so much more than that. There's nothing I can give you to tell you how well you've done at your job. Even my meager achievements aren't evidence enough of your excellence. I love you, Mom.
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