Houston, we have a problem...Life on Mars looks eerily familiar.

This will eventually evolve into a Mother's Day post, but as my mother is not a fan of this particular holiday, I have to disguise it somewhat as a regular post.  I've recently realized from whom I received my distaste for any emotional situation which could potentially end with the phrase, "Let's all have a group hug."  However, even Bonnie Parker loved her own mother, bringing Clyde home to meet mama's approval, good luck with that. So, we all have to 'fess up sometime or other and admit we love our mothers.  Might as well, most women are their mothers to some extent.  

Being the youngest child, I have two mothers: my mother and my older sister, who is now a mother, and a much better mother than I could even aspire to become.  Motherhood is certainly not for the faint of heart.  At the first sign of grime-covered palms I go weak in the knees and promptly go bathe in hand sanitizer.  The mere thought of organizing a preschool aged birthday party forces me to sit in the corner with a paper bag and my head between my feet.  So, again, I say, motherhood is not for the faint of heart.  Which is why I'm so privileged to have not only one, but two great mothers.  The most wonderful thing about this is that not only are my mother and sister my own personal champions, but my closest friends.  

The other day my sister and I were talking and ended up discussing the 'old-school' songs we used to love in high-school and had forgotten about.  My German history professor once said that you know you're old when you make the statement that "Music was better when I was your age."  It is a sobering thought to realize you've arrived at old age.  (Either that or the world just moves a lot faster these days, highschool was this side of ten years ago for me.....)  Experiencing the, "Oh! Do you remember.....?" was actually a pleasantly nostalgic phenomenon.  Which is miraculous considering the fact that I loathed, despised, hated, had a deep-rooted aversion to the brutal torture of the euphemistic appellation of 'high-school.' (I was the stereotypically diffident, mousy kid with the frizzy hair, glasses and no working knowledge of cosmetics who harbored a secret crush on the wonderful smelling, surprisingly intelligent baseball player with the Paul Newman eyes who sat next to her in English/History class.  Frankly, looking back, I still think he was hot.  Anyway...)   I agree whole-heartedly with the man who said that in an ideal world we'd go straight from kindergarten to college.  Amen.  Anyway, I promptly came home and looked online for some of the songs from back in the day (hence the change in the playlist), and swam a bit in the waters of reminisce.  This wasn't as painful as I assumed it would be, conjuring up as it did flashes of repressed memories of those four years.  I've never been a currently fashionable person, so I always relied on my sister to keep me up to date on music trends (still do), so any of the good songs from our day were introduced to me through my sister.  I realized as I sat there listening that the good memories engendered by these songs were all linked directly to my sister.  Indeed, the only good memories of high-school were due to my sister.  She has always had great people skills, and so fell into a very socially eclectic group.  She could count among her friends models, valedictorians, talented actors, musicians and artists.  As well as being one of the coolest people I know, she is also the kindest.  Without any apparent reservations, she let me, the younger, socially inept sibling attach myself to the group.  It was my only salvation in high-school.  So, although she is not my mother, my sister stood in my mother's place in caring for me when my mother could not be present.

While meandering down memory lane I also began to compile a list of cd's to take with me on the upcoming trip with my mother.  My mother and I, if I do say so, make great travelling companions.  In fact I'm sometimes afraid that we have a little too much fun.  If any of you have ever seen Thelma and Louise, you'll know what I mean when I say that I'm occasionally alarmed by the fact that I could very easily imagine either of us running out of a convenience store, vaulting into the car, and making the statement, "You know Louise, I think I've got a knack for this sort of thing" as the other drives away in a furious cloud of dust and burning rubber.  How many other mothers can find it funny when you quote lines from a Coen brothers film in the middle of church, even if it is arguably relevant?  It has always made me indescribably happy when, from middle and high-school all the way through college, friends who were visiting said they loved being around my parents.  Not to brag, but my parents are pretty awesome, always have been.  Most of my interests stem directly from my mother.  I read because she read to me.  I sew because she made me beautiful Halloween costumes as a child.  I like classical because she listened to Beethoven and Handel.  I love photography because she tinkered with cameras.  I paint and repaint, redecorate and move furniture because I was once gone for three days and came back to a different colored room.  (I still liked it better green, by the way, mother....)  I've recently been getting quite often the statement that, "You look like your Daddy, but you have your Mama's personality."  It makes me smile every time.  So, happy Mother's Day to both mother and sister. "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always."