Through the mounds of diapers/pampers, formula, late night changing, sleepless nights, clothes permanently stained with spit up, scrapes, banged up knees, fender benders, arguments, grey hairs, wrinkles, and lost vacations, you've always been there for us. They say it takes a special person to be a mom. Someone with the patience of Job, someone with the wisdom of Solomon, someone to mend hurt and make everything alright again.
Mom, I may get my mechanic skills and the ability to cuss from dad, but I owe my brains, my sense of humor and good looks to you. You taught me right from wrong, when to say yes, when to say no, when to turn the other cheek, when to not run, when to laugh, when to cry. Not every mom is June Cleaver, and I might be slightly biased, but I think I got the best. Thanks for all of your love and guidance over these many, many years. And thanks for the butter scotch pies.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!