Mother, I love you

Mom, you're still the best listener I know. *mwah*
*For everyone else, I'll fill you in. I talk. A lot. Want to know why I currently post on four separate blogs? See previous sentence. I got a lot of stuff to share. Growing up, it was generally my mother who caught the brunt of my...sharing. She could always tell when I was supposed to be doing something, because that was precisely the moment I would be seized with a undeniable urge to suddenly tell her every. single. thing that had happened to me that day. And what I thought about it. And what I might do about it in the future.
Fast forward to my junior year of high school. Along with my driver’s license, and the sudden freedom to go wherever I pleased, and stay as long as I wanted…I developed a deep love for greeting cards. Hallmark was my lair, and I could easily spend an hour lurking in the corners and reading every single card on display. Except the “humor” ones – they usually weren’t funny and generally involved cartoon images of the southern regions of aging men. Who thinks grandpa’s rear end is funny? Not I, I say!  Anyhow, during one trip I came up with a card for my mother that was so perfect…she just had to have it. It featured the picture you see above. There was a little speech bubble coming from the girl, regaling the martyr mother with every! single! thing! that had happened on the playground that day.
You can easily see, can’t you dear reader, why my mother still has that card in a drawer somewhere? And might perhaps pull it out and re-read it…to gain fortitude…on occasion, when faced with me visiting home? *ahem* Just remember you love me, Mom!