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At age thirteen… and so on and so forth…it would have pained me to admit it, but it’s so true. My mom is indeed now, and always has been … my best friend. Yes, today is her birthday, so it’s cliché for me to say something like that, but seriously, I mean look at us…

I’m her mini-me. I know it. And yes, the immature adolescent in me that wants to be “unique and original” still rolls her eyes when people stop me on, what is literally a daily basis, to say how much I look like my mother. But I have to admit, it’s a compliment. I mean, my mom’s a babe. Just look at her.

I know, right? And she hasn’t aged. Seriously. The woman is timeless. It’s some kind of freakish phenomenon. What I don’t think she’ll ever understand is how amazing she really is. Let’s just start with her talents. Most people know her for her impeccable work as a director. But before I get into that, I have to mention that my mom was the best darn actress that had ever hit the stage. I can say that ‘cuz she’s my mama, but I’m pretty sure that if any of you had the pleasure of witnessing her ON the stage, you’d agree. She can be so vulnerable, so graceful, so powerful, and sooooo funny! Truly, she could get a crowd rollin’, and director’s loved her! It’s no wonder why she wanted to be director herself. She made it easy for them. But, after playing around with her acting chops all her life, she took what was a really hard time for our family and turned it into an opportunity to live out a dream of hers. When I was about 7 years old, she became a single mom, went back to school (taking me with her for her night classes), and started working full time as a director. Why not? She has been directing plays since the early 80’s, and has now consistently worked as a drama teacher and director at St. Paul’s High School since 1987 and has never ceased to wow a crowd and pack a house. What she can get those kids to do is nothing less than professional. I know because I’ve been there at her feet, growing up in that theater when my mom was doing her thing with my brothers acting in the plays while I was running barefoot backstage, on stage and everywhere in between. And I have never left, really. I danced, acted and sang my little heart out on that stage, and wept in my last performance when I graduated. But, I came right back. It was a no brainer. I came back to design costumes and choreograph at her side, dragging my kids along for the ride to be little theater rats just the same. Boy, do they soak it up!

(check out this little gem of my Firecracker “helping Grammie direct” just like I did.

Talk about deja vu. Doesn’t get better than that)

What’s more important, is that she does it all for God. She has a knack for tying a faith-filled message into every show, leaves no scene or line unturned to make sure that all would be pleasing if the good Lord sat himself right down in the audience. Which, if you’ve had the blessing to be a part of her shows, you can feel that He’s there. He’s in her, and she makes sure that when you leave, He’s in YOU, too. With Mother Mary and her Immaculate Heart, my mom’s model, guide and closest confidant looking out over the crowd and praying for every cast, crew and audience member whether they like it or not, always at her side. Yup, Our Lady’s picture has remained framed and mounted above the light booth since my mom stepped her foot into that building and she ain’t takin’ it down. That’s right. My mom doesn’t take “No” for an answer. If ever you were a part of her youth group, worked in any kind of ministry or retreat with her, gone on one of the many pilgrimages that she has led, you know that if my mamacita thinks God wants you to do something, She’s gonna get you to do it. She cannot be refused. She is one very holy woman, and she has a direct line to God. I’m sure of it. (I know this because 1) she lives in the adoration chapel down at the end of her street and 2) I’m sure that’s where God would tip her off as to my whereabouts each time she busted and grounded me for something I was doing regularly when I wasn’t supposed to! Sheesh!)

And now, as a mother myself, I can call her over and over AND OVER again and thank her for all that she did to put up with me, and apologize profusely for being such a punk (especially when I know it’s all coming back to me. The mischief and “fire” is in the eyes of my children as well. Most are very well behaved when necessary, but don’t let them fool ya, especially one in particular. Hmmmm….I won’t mention who, but the primary culprit just might be pictured in a previous “deja vu – theater” pic). I also make it a habit to call to laugh, or cry with her when she simply laughs and shrugs her shoulders when I ask her for advice.

“I don’t know, Elise? It’s a strong gene. It was passed down to me by my grandmother, I passed it on to you, and now look at all the little people you’ve passed it on to. I’m here to help, but also to enjoy it! Have fun!” -Mom

So, her answer to the big question of what to do? Normally, it’s just, “You’ll figure it out.” She claims she never quite figured me out. I have no idea what she’s talking about…

(HaHaHa… check out these fun picks of what was supposed to be “a phase”)

………………..

My purple Mohawk wig circa 1984??, as a mad scientist, My mom, clearly the hottest gypsy fortune teller ever. (She kinda looks like me with my beanies now, huh?)

—and now–

(aaand just a few weeks ago, with my REAL Mohawk, at my head shaving party. Mom, rooting me on)

…………………

Thanks, Mom, for always being at my side. For always giving me the advice that there’s no answer “in the books”. Thanks for believing that no person is or should be like anyone else (no “cookie cutter” kids in our family and we like it that way!) and appreciating each and every unique quality about people, whether or not we might make you crazy! Thank you for always, always, always being so darn proud of me and my brothers, our spouses, our kids, and our vocations, and seeing the best in us at every moment… to a fault (I seriously could have tried to fly because my mom made me think I could). Thank you for teaching us to “not cry over spilled milk” and to be strong and “do what we gotta do when we gotta do it”! Thank you for finding faith when our family had no faith, and gripping on to it for your life, through every storm like it was your job. Because it was, and you embraced it fearlessly, because you knew God had your back. And now, more than ever, I can see that that is rooted so deep in me and it is because of you and your rock hard faith, Mamamia!

When I received my diagnosis of breast cancer, just 2 months ago and counting, I asked you to be “my shadow”, the other “mommy” in the house. I wanted consistency for my kids, and I wanted you to be that person that did what I did when my kids came home every day when I knew I couldn’t. You’ve adjusted everything to be the carpool and homework lady, the extra hand in the house for dinnertime, bathtime and bedtime, and anything and everything in between. As a fellow mother, I can’t imagine what it means to have your daughter say she has cancer. So I know that you NEED to be here. But as your daughter, you’re pain in the butt, stubborn daughter who doesn’t hug too long or talk “mushy” outloud much because I’ve never been much for what I call “Hallmark moments“, I gotta let you know that I’m so glad to have you here every day and don’t know what we’d do without you.

You are some kind of bionic wonder woman and I hope everyone is really right.

I hope I really am just like my mom.

………………………….

Allow me to introduce you to my new friend & my kids’ enemy: “The Crank Bank“.

It ain’t pretty. And no, I didn’t get all crafty with it, but it is what it is and it serves its purpose. I love my kids. They are beautiful, they are smart, they are fun-loving and love each other….75% of the time. And then, like all of us, they have their moments. Some more than others, some moments waaaaay longer than others. Frankly, as I mentioned before, “I don’t got time for dat!” So, when we hear anybody talking in a non-loving, disrespectful or just down right “fussy for too long” kinda way, they just might have to toss some dough from their piggy bank right here in the ol’ crank bank. May sound a bit much to some of ya, but for us, it works. A quarter here, a quarter there, and before we know it, ~~Mama may have a new pair of shoes~~ we may have a decent trip to Disney! Or, it may just be where we draw upon as reward when they’re caught doing something above and beyond (ie: extra chores around the house)? Who knows. But, it’s there and to tell ya the truth, it’s pretty symbolic for us these days.

I grew up as quite the tom boy with two big brothers who toughened me up pretty good. I lived bare foot, outside, building forts and climbing trees and wanted nothing more than to be rough, tumble and strong like my bros. (Not quite the girly girl my mom had waited for, yet a chip off the ol’ block from what I hear of her as a wee one) I was tough as nails. My whole family was, we had to be. We had a lot of ups and downs, but we were strong. We’re also very real and very honest. We stuck together like glue, our faith was our fortress, and we’ve always known that God had a sense of humor and so did we. Our quirky sense of humor, paired with a whole lot of prayer, got us through everything. We laughed and we cried, but we didn’t cry over spilled milk either. At least not for long. If ya did, someone would show your their pantomime of “the world’s smallest violin playing my heart cries for you.” Move it along, sister, we have bigger fish to fry.

Ya see, I know my kids are on a roller coaster ride now. We all are. We’re gonna have up days and down days. But much like a roller coaster, there’s no chance to enjoy the ride if the cart just stops at the bottom and never goes back up again. I love roller coasters! I love the way they keep on movin’! I even enjoy when I’m upside down. I love heights. I love thrill seeking. I love adventure. I love a good time, but I’m not afraid of tough times because I know God is with me and I know that if I let Him, He will lock me in like a seatbelt on this ride and carry me through the loopty-loops and hold me at the bottom, in the quiet as well. My kids know that too. They’re confident that they are loved, not just by us, but by God all the more.

People have mentioned to me to make sure I let myself be real and let myself cry if I have to. No worries! I have those moments. I can “ugly cry” with the best of ’em, but I don’t stay there for long. I know my upbringing plays a HUGE part. Not just because my brothers made me tough, not just because I could jump, tuck and roll out of tree bare foot with the best of ’em, and not just because I’m the first to laugh out loud at myself if I was to trip on my face in front of a crowd. The faith that I learned from my Mama and through all the many people that have crossed our paths is what will carry us.

So my kids may be casting their coins in the ol’ “crank bank” from time to time, but our entire family is casting our cares, our worries, and our tears to the Big Guy upstairs. Yeah, we’ll all get a little fussy sometimes. It’s to be expected. For Pete’s sake, my kids are all age 10 and under, we’re not what you could call stable. Who is? But no need to stay there. Why dwell in despair? I recently received an anonymous card with only the following verse in it:

We’re casting all of our cares and worries at the foot of the cross and the grace and peace that we’re feeling is right there in that verse. It’s beyond understanding. I can’t explain why I’m still so happy. I can’t tell ya why I’m still smiling even at my lows, except to say that God’s pumping me with this unearthly grace. It’s a very cool feeling, I gotta tell ya.