I love my Mom. Like, a lot. I call that poor woman constantly and she never complains.
"Mom, this can of soup says it expired a few months ago, think I'm still OK to eat it?"
"Mom, I can't get this mirror clean with Windex, do you know anything that would work better?"
"Mom, I'm at Smith's and I can't figure out where the olives are."
Seriously, it's that bad. Maybe worse some days. In fact, the other night I was trying to get Sundae to bed and it wasn't going well. She'd been crying for over two hours. Ava was tired and upset, I was tired and upset, I tried everything. I called my Mom and she and my Dad got in the car and came over and played with my girls and talked to me until we were all feeling much more sane. She didn't complain about me interrupting her night, she let me vent and she didn't make me feel like a crap Mom.
She's exactly the Mom and I need and I can't imagine not having her. Hopefully I don't drive her TOO crazy.
(The crazy neck is my photographers fault. She kept telling me to move my head closer. It was weird. K.)