So it's like this. My mom and I have mostly, always had this sort of kinship going on. You know, the kind where hearts and love and things in common are involved. During my high school years, I was maybe not the kindest, most loving daughter that ever existed (if you can possibly imagine?!). It wasn't until sometime in my twenties that the teenage angst began to melt away and I suddenly became more like a human and less like....whatever else I was. It wasn't until those years that a real and true mother/daughter relationship could really develop between the two of us. And when it happened, suddenly she became the person that I wanted to go to when things were both good and stupid; a new job, a new guy, small feats and big ones, break-ups and being broke, (she was the sole reason I didn't starve to death on more than one occasion) you get the idea.
My parents divorced my senior year of high school, so in the years following, my mom and I got to enjoy a rare relationship of exchanging thoughts and hopeful dreams of our future husbands. What would they be like? Would we ever, ever, ever find them? Because for a while there, it all looked really rather dim. We would call each other in moments of discouragement, moments of hope or excitement. We would exchange dating stories (which to this day, are still my very favorite things to hear about! Good or bad. Seriously, call me. But only if you're going to tell me every single detail, otherwise I get bored and therefore cannot offer the "wise" advice your situation solicits.) and over analyze every aspect of the night, just as any normal girl might do. She would tell me I'm too picky, I would fire it right back, we'd shrug our shoulders and then move on to other topics, like what we had for dinner that night.
And then one Sunday afternoon I got a text from her: "There's a single guy in my ward. I think you two should meet." "Oh uhhhh yeah, no thanks Mom." Because I mean, I sure love that mom of mine, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be set up by my mom. I mean, right? Her response was, "Too late, I already told him about you. He's going to find you on Facebook."
He found me, friended me, messaged me, (hopefully facebook is still around for our grandkids, otherwise this story might make a little less sense.) we wrote a little bit back and forth, it was all pretty blah, blah. I lived in Idaho at the time, he in South Dakota, it was just never going to happen, and plus, why did a single, older guy live in South Dakota of all places? He really can't be that normal. My mom would ask about him every time we talked, and would always get furious when I would tell her I was dating or was interested in someone else. "What about Taylor?!" she would say. To which I would respond, "Uhhh what about him? I haven't even met the guy!" I was always confused by her passion about him. To this day, she'll claim it was absolute inspiration.
And then one fateful day, I decided that I would go visit my mom over the summer. So I went, and on Sunday morning, before we left for church my mom must have said at least 57 times, "How does it feel to know that you're going to meet your husband today?" To which, I would roll my eyes each time and say, "Okaaay Mom." But with a really ugly face and in that super annoying voice that every kid in the world, no matter how old they are, uses when their parent says something that they think is dumb. (No offense Mom.)
And well, it's all history from there, because...she was right (as she always is, I'm sure.). We met after Sacrament meeting (so romantic, right?) he asked me out for the next day and at the end of our first date while standing on the steps of my mom's front porch, he asked, "Sooo ummm I kind of want to see you every day until you leave....is that okay? To which my heart melted and I coolly responded, "Yeah....that's okay." And so for the next two weeks, we did just that. During those two weeks, I got to go home each night where my mom would be waiting up for me, just as she might if I was still 16-years-old, (except that I was 25 and nicer) and I would tell her every single detail of the night. She was the first to know that I thought he was a little arrogant, the first to know about the first time he kissed me, she was the one who talked me through my doubts (because in all of my dating years, I was always pretty bipolar), and she was the one who got about 17 times more excited than I was when I finally admitted aloud that I might actually really like him.
After those 2 weeks, we dated long distance. Three months later we were engaged and 6 months from the day we met, we were married. To which, this victory is something my mother will never, ever let me forget. And well, who can blame her?
But wait, there's more! It was only a few months after getting married that Taylor and I went back to South Dakota for a visit. And in no time, my mom was telling me about this guy who had really been pursuing her lately. And the role reversal ensues! I became the worst/best version of her. "Tell me everything!" "Have him over for dinner tonight!" "I NEED to meet him before I leave." I even wrote out a whole text for her to send to him inviting him over that first night. She was so dang nervous and it was probably the cutest thing I ever saw.
Over the next few months she would call, tell me how excited she was, tell me how nervous she was, and I would talk her through it while also getting retardedly excited. I told her everything she ever told me and held her hand, just as she had for me only months before.
And would you know that just last weekend, that mom of mine got married! And good frank, I cried harder during their ceremony than I did at my own! I even get a little teary just thinking of it now.
That mom of mine, well she's mine forever and ever and no one deserves to be happy more than she does.
So here's to weddings, marriage, and doing it all in the same year....together!