I could post a picture on Instagram, that she would never see, and I could share birthday wishes on Facebook, to her nonexistent timeline. So instead, I decided to take these birthday wishes to something she would see - my blog.
Happiest of days to my forever proofreader, because you just never know who is reading my blog. To the woman who proofread every single college paper I ever submitted, so maybe she should have walked across that stage with me. To the one who faithfully attended every single volleyball game or tournament I ever played, and had a pretty impressive attendance record at the games I coached, too. Who said yes to my request to play club volleyball at a club that practiced 30 minutes away from home, three nights a week. Who, before I had my license, drove me out there with her stack of mail, sitting off to the side so as to not interfere with my practice.
Who cheered louder than anyone at our playoff send-offs, who jumped out of her seat when I was named Outstanding Setter at the Spring Branch tournament my senior year. Who promised not to tell my dad when I was hitting the volleyball against the side of the house, because every repetition mattered.
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Who taught me how to fight my own battles, stepping in only when it was absolutely necessary. Who was more excited than I was when I got hired at Bellaire (probably because I was still in shock), who always answered my every call when I was walking to and from class my freshman year of college. Who would come up to Austin in an instant if I needed her. Who lets me plan the vacations we take together, never complaining when I make our to-do list a little too long.
Who introduced me to the wonder that is The Nutcracker Market, and let my friends tag along as well. Who always encouraged the importance of making good grades, but never put any pressure on me. Who told me that as long as I did the best I could, that's all that mattered. Who stayed up with me when I was stressed out, asking what she could do to help. Who still stays up with me when I'm stressed out, asking what she can do to help.
Who told me to "bring home all my laundry" when I told her I was coming home for the weekend, and who does my laundry for me still to this day. Who makes grocery store runs when I claim I don't have the time, who makes my bed the mornings that I don't, because she listened to Admiral McRaven's speech, too. Who tastes tests my baked goods, and cleans up all the remains without my even asking. Who still waits up for us at night, because we're still her children and that's her job.
Who worked full-time, but still managed to find the time to be my homeroom mom, and chaperone just about every field trip I ever took. Who took on the daunting task of being on of the three moms in charge of my sophomore year Sweet 16, to ensure that I would be able to go that year. Who let me buy a too-expensive dress that I would wear only once, because it was beautiful, and the dress of my dreams.
Who always made sure she won the birthday marquee at the auction, and then made me go take pictures with it. Who knew living at SRD would be the best decision I ever could have made. And who always knows best, anyway. Who always told me to "blame it on her" if I ever didn't want to do something with friends, so that she looked like the bad guy.
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Who loves sports - all sports - more than most people I know, and who has strong opinions about most players. Who sees the good in every person, but isn't afraid to gossip a little bit, either. Who, when I call her debating between two different shirts, tells me to just "get them both." Who still has an iPhone 3 because she gives her upgrades to her kids (mainly her son).
Who epitomizes the picture of a mom who gives up everything for her kids, and puts her family first. Who never tells me that any dream is too big. Who encourages me and supports me and who would let me live at home forever if I wanted to (don't worry, I won't). Who listens to my stories about my students, who has given me more freedom than I ever could have asked for, but raised me to know the difference between right and wrong. Who loves the 8th Wonder of the World that is the Astrodome, and is a most devoted George Strait fan (even if she didn't use the tickets I bought her). Who taught me to speak up for myself, and to stand up for what I know is right.
Who is deserving of a blog post that goes on for pages, but would probably have liked it if I had stopped before I had even started. So, happy birthday to you, dear mother. Thanks for loving and caring for me so unbelievably well. This phrase is probably used far too often, but if I grow up to be even half the woman that you are - wife, daughter, mom, friend, and sister, I'll know that I'm doing alright in this world.
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