Today is somebody's birthday. And I'm not talking about Honest Abe.
This is my mom.
She made me learn how to type, even though I protested bitterly, and swore it was a skill I didn't need.
She taught me to sew, even though I refused for many years to learn to thread the machine, and swore it was a skill I would never use. (This is Alex Anderson, who is in no way related to us. Maybe mom should adopt her; she probably would make a better quilty daughter than me. I'll bet she doesn't give up in tears on half-bound quilts and shove them off on her mother to fix.)
She (mom, not Alex!) taught me what it is to be a mom and how to love silly children, even though I swore I would never have any of my own.
Moms have a way of knowing what you need to know, and finding a way to trick you into learning them. Then you turn around and it's you trying to trick your own kids into learning how to boil a chicken. And even though you would never in a million years force your own kids to eat tomato aspic, you will, every now and then, try to slip a crazy little recipe like "meatless" loaf past them. Of course, they will reject it and ridicule you, much in the same way you ridicule your own mother still for forcing you to eat that nasty tomato jello.
Thank you, Mom, for making me learn.
You were totally right, of course.
You always are.
Because you're the mom.
And I love you.