A Mother's Day Card. In Blog Form.

I've been talking a lot about my Dad lately- and oh, how he totally deserves it/wishes I'd kinda stop- but there's another key player in the saga called How I Got To Be So Awesome.

My Mom.

You can just feel that I'm her favorite.

She's a cheerleader, an advocate, an advice-giver (whether you need it or not, dammit- although you do; admit it, Keely), a creator of favorite meals, a freezer-stuffer, an eradicator of laundry, and a champion Skyper. (As long as her connection isn't wonky.)

When I get a rejection letter, her favorite response is "You want me to give them a call?"

My mother also thinks that I'm the funniest writer she knows. There's no use arguing with her- she's seen a lot, baby.

She loves old movies and classic mysteries- even though she never sits down to watch them. After all of those hours spent watching our favorite series, she knows that she had a lot to do with why Nora was named after Nora Charles.

And she's also the reason my Dad will beat cancer. Because while everyone else's notes and gestures and constant stream of love keep him going through his utterly rough treatments, it's my Mom who will berate that cancer right out of his body. Because she doesn't believe in it. And she does not accept.

With this- as with so many aspects of her life- she won't give up. Ever. And those stupid people who have wronged her children/publishing houses/cancers better just step aside and realize that she's never going to stop fighting.

It must be an amazing trait to have in a wife.

And I can tell you what it's like to have in a Mom.

(Happy Mother's Day.)