Momma Sprik

In regards to Breast Cancer Month, I'm going to spend a few posts this October writing about a few of the sensational women I'm lucky enough to have surrounding me.  The obvious place to start, and the only person I could dream to begin with, is my beautiful mother.
If you get my mom and I in the right mood, you'll see exactly where much of my personality comes from.  It's a perfectly balanced relationship.  We can sit and talk for hours about issues or problems in our life, or we can laugh so hard our toes hurt.
Yes, it's possible.  And yes, it's happened.
The family dog, Son, is the only man in my mom's house.  Does his name make sense now?  When all the daughters are home, any poor bystander is innocently crushed by the exceedingly rising level of noise coming from the four of us.  We don't eat out often because of this.
When we get into these situations, where we all talk at one and Son hides because his poor ears can't handle that many decibels, we tend to think that extremely irrational things are a good idea.  It's like a gang of drunks trying to skydive.  Except we're sober.
The perfect example: Two days before Nick and my wedding, I still hadn't gotten my eyebrows waxed.  Money was tight.  And by tight I mean nonexistent.  My mom thought it would be a brilliant idea to wax my eyebrows herself.  Here's problemo numero uno: careless waxing leads to missing eyebrows.  You don't accidentally pluck off someone's eyebrow.  As she warms up the waxing kit we both have a few glasses of wine.  The second bad idea.  I may have had a glass of wine for my nerves and the pain to come, but my mother probably should not have.  As the time comes, I'm sitting on the toilet seat anxious.  My mom is stirring the wax giggling.  The five or so people at the house are crammed into the doorway, each with the kind of smile you see on people's faces when watching "America's Dumbest Criminals".  Mom goops the wax on my face, smashes the strip on top of that, and then turns around to giggle at everyone watching.  She then violently whips back and rips it off.  My mom's way of waxing: whip and rip.  As I'm screaming on the floor, everyone else is laughing on the floor.
Needless to say, we plucked the rest.
In all seriousness, my mom has taught me many important parts of being a woman.  Strength and forgiveness in times of great despair.  How to laugh at the good and bad in life, but that it's still ok to cry every so often.  She's implanted in me the importance of honor within your friendships, such as keeping their secrets and being there when they need you, not just expecting them to be there for you.  I know that when I'm at the lowest place of a valley the only place to look is up, and if you just keep walking you'll get there.
My mom is truly my best friend.  I cannot explain to you how lucky I am to have such a relationship with her.  I tell her everything, which may get on my husbands nerves.  Emily, my younger sister, and I had a conversation recently about this fact, and we both agreed that we hope to connect with our own daughters in the same way someday.
So thank you mom, for being the kind of woman that they write about in books.  The kind of mom that has my back through everything.  The kind I inspire to be someday.