Badass

In the year after my dad died, my mom went a little crazy. She quit her high powered corporate job and went to beauty school, she bought a Harley, she spent hours and hours rearranging furniture and tearing out bushes. One day she took a sledgehammer to her front porch, tearing it down piece by piece, swinging the hammer and beating the shit out of grief. I wonder what the neighbors thought as they drove by that day, watching her cursing and crying and sweating and swinging. They probably thought the same thing I do:

That chick is Badass.

She married, lost a baby, divorced, remarried, had two babies, moved out of the country and back again (twice) before she was 25. She went from high school dropout to hotel front desk clerk to the only woman at her level in a multimillion dollar, international organization. She cuts hair, cooks like a fiend, wields power tools with ease, drinks men under the table and swears like a sailor.

Like I said, Badass.
 
And, the most sensitive person I know. She takes (frequent) ribbings with good humor, is generous in every way, gives affection freely and openly and willingly. She is given to weepiness. If I made a list of the 10 nicest things anyone has ever done for me, she'd hold at least half the spots. If you know her, chances are she's on your list as well.

She's a Badass with a sensitive side. Kind of like a hooker with a heart of gold, except without the sleeping with people for money.

She is brave and courageous and daring and smart and funny and beautiful. When my heart hurts the most there is no one I want more than my Mommy. She is my best friend, and inspires me every day to be a better mother and a better person.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day, you Badass!


(My mom asks that you please go vote for me on Circle of Moms. Did I just use my mom to pimp myself out for votes? Yes, yes I did!)