May 27th

[kaciagemini]

Today is my mommy's birthday. She is, we have decided, rather than turning 54, simply turning 27 for the second time. This works out well at 27 is her favorite number. (what's not to like? it's 3 to the 3rd power!) Anyway, this reminded me of the other day when I was in the car with Helen, staring up at the stars, and Pink Floyd came on the radio. As I was listening to them singing "We don't need no education. We don't need no thought control." It, in turn, reminded me of a Goosebumps book I read... many moons ago, about a kid who got sent off to this special school that guaranteed to turn even the most troublesome kids into perfect angels. What actually happened was that they made robot copies of the kids to send home with the parents and the real kids got trapped in the walls of the building. What struck me most about the book was the fact that the parents were so happy to have a well-behaved child that they seemingly didn't notice or care that the child wasn't actually *their* child. The thing about the book that creeped me out the most was that parents like that actually *exist*. I know they do; I've *met* people like that. I just don't get why people that think that way *have* kids... I really don't get it. I can understand wanting your child to be the best person they can possibly be, but I don't understand wanting your child to be someone that they aren't. I don't see how that can possibly be a sign of love. Things like that just make me more glad than ever that I lucked out with the mom I got. She may not be the best person in the world, she may not be the best mother in the world (despite what all my friends think) but I have always been grateful for the fact that she loves her kids for themselves rather than any esoteric idea of how "good" they are. It amazes me the most, I think, because she never really wanted kids and ended up with *7*. I would expect her to resent us, considering she's been busy being a mother since she was 17, but I've never seen any sign that she does. She loves us all, equally, even when some of us (who shall remain nameless) act like incredible jerks. She's managed to work out a way to have a life, around her kids, without ever needing to neglect or ignore us. She may not always have been the most attentive parent but I'm willing to forgive her that one as she has a hell of a lot more excuse for it than most parents I know. She's busy, but *never* too busy to love her kids. Maybe sometimes I wish that she'd support me more actively or that she had pushed me harder when I was young, but I don't resent that because I've recognized the one fact that I think some people never realize about their parents. She's just a human being. She's not a miracle worker, she can't read minds, she just does the best she can. And as human beings go, she's a pretty damn good one. Most amazing of all is the fact that she's the kind of person that if I had just met her on the street, I would want to be her friend and be glad to have met her. You don't get to pick your family, but if you did, I'd still pick her. Anyway, even though she doesn't read this (most likely *because* she doesn't read this) Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you. ~Sorry to have sapped up everyone's f-list.~