for my mother

Do you ever ask yourself how the hell you survived before Pinterest existed to bookmark your favorite daily inspirations, before Facebook told you what that weird boy who always dunked his string cheese in mayonnaise during 7th grade homeroom does Saturdays from 12-2pm, or before (brace yourself) the internet even existed? There once was a time when people celebrated their birthdays not as an excuse to eat 17 helpings of Confetti cake, but as a token of gratuity for surviving. For making it another year in a world not yet swarming with swag bags or longevity pills.

Today is my birthday, but I feel like I’ve done nothing to deserve the celebration. I’ve been lucky enough to make it this far with few road blocks and moments of danger, which is why I dedicate this day to my Mother – the one who has done all the real work. 22 years ago, you would never know it from this gorgeous photo, but this lady in red here went through a significant amount of excruciating pain. All for me. All to bring me into this world, so that I may see, and feel, and think, and sing, and taste the goodness that has touched her throughout the years. Mom, you champion of a woman, I love you. Happy 22nd anniversary of having your last baby. woah.

{year zero}

{year three, made it through the chicken pox!}

{year six with a Confetti cake. Typical}

To many more. Happy Birthday all you April 10thers.

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