I think there was an egg. There must have been an egg. And she must have provided the egg.
And . . . I know she carried me in her belly. I'll give her that.
But I'm pretty sure she didn't draw the blueprints for me. Didn't shop for me. Didn't write my code.
And yet . . . I don't think she'd agree to any of that. I'm pretty sure she . . . thinks she's . . . something like God to me.
. . . and that really sticks to my craw!
--oh yeah. Craw: (the part of a bird's gullet, that if it gets blocked, causes much pain and indigestion, until the obstruction is removed or dealt with)
I love my mom. I mean. . . I have to . . . basically. But I also love her.
I'm not sure it's the same thing all the time as liking her. But I do love her. She's done a lot for me. She will still do a lot for me
That's what mom's do.
The problem is . . . she doesn't want to let her little bird out of the nest.
They say it's a common problem. This syndrome mothers have. I'll likely have it, they say, when I get married and have a kid. But the syndromes not taking me. . . without a fight!
Mother's day will be here before I know it. I'll need to think of something to show my mom how special she is to me. And that will be hard.
Not because she's not special. Not because I'm not grateful. But because she's like a laxative. Always stirring up, and knocking, the Crap out of my sensibilities . . . and dignities.
If anyone has any advice to offer. . . This girl's listening. I don't want to hate my mom. I don't think I do hate her. But man, I'd like to take a tennis racquet to her (##*##) some times.
MOMS! You can't live with 'em. And you can't take 'em out!