Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

First let me apologize for not sending you a card. However, having known me all my life, you know that I am terrible at actually mailing stuff. I think I have a slight post office phobia. I have three care packages sitting here right now that have yet to be sent, and I believe the small children for whom the presents are meant will be in college bythe time they get them.

That being said, I am also sorry that I have not sent you flowers. I wanted to, but my credit cards were stolen and I still have not gotten the replacements. My purchasing power is shot to hell. Rich seems gleeful about this. I wonder why.

Now that it is firmly established that I am a shit-assed non-present sending daughter, let me tell you the following:

I love you more each time I talk to you. You totally rock, and i am so glad that i can count you as a friend now, and some one I can talk to as a person and as a woman. I know I wasn't an easy kid to raise (though compared to that brother of mine, I was a fair walk in the park, wasn't I?) and I sometimes wish I could go back and just kick my own ass for some of the stuff I did and said when I was younger. But I guess that's part of getting older, isn't it, wising up and realizing what an ABSOLUTE BONEHEAD you've been all your life. I am still a bonehead, but at least now I recognize it, and I just want to say thanks for dealing with me all these years. By rights, and you would have been forgiven, I am sure, you should have put me in the burlap sack and tossed my annoying ass in the pond, there to sink or swim, but you didn't and for that I say thank you.

You are one hell of a wonderful woman; patient, kind, funny, goofy and opinionated.
When you sing "You Are My Sunshine" in your vaguely Marlene Deitrich Teutonic lilt, (after my ears stop bleeding), I laugh and sing along with you.
When I am sick, the first thing I say is "I want my MOMMY!"
When I buy that 6th pair of cute black sandals, or that skirt that shows off my waist just so, I think "Gee, I need to tell Mom about this. She'd understand!".
When you tell Dad to "Stop grunting!", I grimace because I realize that I say the same damned thing to Rich when HE chews too loudly, and that I have become my mother . But you know what? It ain't so bad. There are worse people I could be.

I can't think of any at the moment, but I know there are....

Mom I love you so much and just want to wish you a very happy Mother's Day, even if I am lame and not there and didn't send a card (see:"Phobia").

Can I make it up to you in jewelry when next I see you? Somehow, methinks you won't say no...

Love,
Karla