Momma.

Did you have a wonderful Mother’s Day?  I hope so. I’m not a mother myself, but I have one. I actually have the best one. Really. And she had a wonderful day. While I wasn’t there to celebrate with her, I was just home for two weeks, so maybe the best present I could have given here was leaving. And cleaning out my voicemail box. Which I did as well. So mom, please feel free to leave me a voicemail telling me how much you love me, or how thankful you are to finally be able to leave me a message – but maybe do so sparingly, because I can’t guarantee the next time they’ll be cleaned out again. In any case, I spent a lot of time with my beautiful momma while I was at home.  Without embarrassing her terribly, or embarrassing myself even more for admitting my participation – I’d love to tell you about one of our evenings together. Obviously sacrificing my humiliation, purely for your entertainment. So selfless of me, right? I know.

If any of you know my mother Patty, you know she is responsible for educating our youth, specifically the brattiest miniature seventh and eight grade students in the areas of leadership and world history. And she does an incredible job at it. Seriously. Obviously she doesn’t think they’re the brattiest miniature people, in fact I think she kind of likes them. And they’re pretty lucky to have her. Except for when she accidentally calls them Samantha when she yells at them, because she’s just so used to it. But that’s beside the point. What you may not know is that prior to becoming a teacher, my mommy dearest was a Mary Kay consultant. With big dreams of driving that coveted pink cadilac, and even bigger hair, my mom was equipped with a power suit, hot pink lipstick and a compact. No longer a consultant herself, trading in her brush set for pens and pencils, my mom now has a consultant. A consultant who insisted on educating my mom on skin care, color matching her foundation, selecting the best palette for making her eyes pop, and finishing with complementary lip color. All while I looked on in amazement, sitting around a table with two other Samantha's, two Patty's and a handful of other people I don't remember because their name wasn't Samantha or Patty. No joke. Opting out of a consultation myself, I was just along for the ride. And boy am I glad I came. Not only because I scored a killer brow gel and sunless tanner – thanks, mom – but because it was hilarious. 

My mom was adamant I try the loveliest shade of bronze eyeshadow. Applying it to my eye lid with a disposable brush, it was then my mom, within inches of my face, whispered I’m so happy we could share this time together. My cheeks cramping in an effort to not immediately burst in to laughter, and fearful the tears would ruin my new look, I was able to keep composure before completely losing it on the ride home. Before you start thinking I’m some rude, insensitive creature ruining a tender and sentimental moment between mother and daughter, please note that I’m sitting in a rumpus room, eating break-and-bake chocolate chip cookies, with my mother who, with the exception of her disposable cloth headband, looks like she could be stepping on to a red carpet at 6pm on a Tuesday evening, and realize the hilarity of the situation. It might actually make the moment even sweeter. Because that moment, both of us poorly attempting to hide our laughter, looking like clowns and taking our turn in the circle telling the other ladies how much we enjoy their hibiscus lip color {which it totally the shade of summer, btw}, was maybe one of best ever. 

Risking my own safety, this is my mom the Mary Kay consultant, circa 1989, complete with her makeup tool box. 

Mom, please don't kill me. 

I love you.