I’m Pretty Sure My Mom was Taught by Master Yoda

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Two days after the festivities have ended, I am still exhausted with my body still trying to recover. Probably doesn’t help that my eating habits have been incredible erratic all weekend long, and in the hopes of recovering from said weekend, I ate too few of meals with too much time in between OR I snacked way too much on chocolate gold coins, Texas caviar, blanco cheese dip and leftover Subway sandwiches to make much of a difference.

When, like, 20 of these are just sitting in your fridge, how can you possibly say no?

That’s the way of life after a wild weekend like I’ve just had, right?

In case you were wondering, the Bridal Shower and Bachelorette Party rocked out the weekend hours without a hitch. My stomach hurt so much the next morning from laughing. Just…so much fun. My sisters, our cousins and the friends along for the ride sure know how to have a good night. It wasn’t a wild night where things happening in Vegas stay in Vegas, but it was a blast nonetheless. If I could relive the weekend in its entirety, I so totally would. To say I like being in charge of events like this is an understatement.

See this clipboard? It’s my clipboard. Which means I’m in charge.

I adore it.

Seeing as how my brain is a bit fuzzy from everything still, I’m not going to give too many details on the happenings of the weekend just yet. I will later on…hopefully after a full night’s rest here. What am I saying…I’m too wicked to rest.

Must. Keep. Pounding. My. Head. Against. This. Wall.

I was able to schedule an extra day off where I could stay home with my folks on the farm and just relax for a solid 24 hours. It wasn’t easy telling myself to chill out, especially when my other siblings are in the midst of packing up their bags and gear to start their treks home, back to their own separate lives. It may not have shown on the outside, but every time a backpack or a duffel bag was thrown into the trunk of a vehicle, my stomach lurched. My brain would scream, “Get going! You’re burning daylight! You should be working on SOMETHING!”

Come on…come on! Just shut! It’s not that much stuff!

I may have a few screws loose.

Not as soon as I would like, but my nerves and anxiety eventually drifted away and I was able to grab a book from my overnight bag, sit on our back porch with a cup of coffee, and read to my heart’s content. I forgot how nice it is to lose yourself completely in a fictional story.

This is how I spent most of my Monday.

My latest read of choice? Songs of the Humpback Whales by Jodi Picoult. I absolutely love everything about her writing and her stories. I own half of her entire collection already, and will soon be owning the rest. An entire section of my Books Only bookshelf will be dedicated to her (when I have the space to have a Books Only bookshelf anyways.) I highly recommend her novels. Pure wonderfulness, and her most known novel My Sister’s Keeper is the only book to date that made my shed actual tears while I was reading.

I don’t cry when I read. I just don’t, but that book opened wells of tears for an entire night to the point where I had to put the book down to gather myself before moving on.

Not only did I finish this book of Picoult’s, but I read two other Star Wars books in their entirety as well. I suppose after a chaotic weekend like that, one can easily lose themselves in the worlds and problems of another person or in another Universe before focusing on the post-party organizing and cleaning.

Sure, it all looked good before the party started…now? Not so much.

But that extra day not only allowed me time get myself put back together along with a congratulatory pat on the back for throwing not one, but two, great parties in 36 hours, it also gave me time to catch up with my bestest of best friends: my mom.

I don’t understand it when people say they dislike their parents. Sure, when I was 13 years old and coming into my own (with thousands of swirling hormones screwing up everything), I disliked my parents. We argued and fought because I couldn’t wear the things I wanted or go out past 10:00 pm on a school night. They wouldn’t let me date nor could I be on the computer for more than 2 hours at a time (even for school work). I had chores to do and it didn’t matter if I didn’t get home until 10:30 pm due to a basketball game. I still had to go out and do them, then come in, clean up, and start doing my homework for the night. I didn’t talk to her about boys. Heck, I don’t even think she knows my very first kiss happened when I was 15 years old! We simply didn’t talk about boys…it was, as they say, too embarrassing.

I wasn’t the best of listeners.

Yet, I could talk to her about the biology of my body and my period without a problem. Go figure.

“My bottom is my delinquent daughter. I lavish praise upon her cheeks when she’s well-behaved and when she gets out of control, I pretend she isn’t mine.”

Now, I am perfectly aware that Anna Johnson, author of The Yummy Mummy Manifesto, is speaking of her ass-sets, I’m sure, but I also couldn’t help but think about how I’m sure my mother regarded me at times. I’m sure my mother preferred to worry about her back-end than what trouble I was getting myself into at times. I’m all 99% sure she wished her back-end was the worst of her problems when I was just coming into my teen years.

Quite the savvy lady.

I was a handful. I’m not going to deny that one bit.

I’m so happy my mom and I can sit around our fire pit, drinking margaritas, and talk about everything going on in our lives. I even gave her the entire lowdown on what’s been happening in my dating life for the past couple of months. (Okay…so maybe I didn’t tell her every single nitty-gritty detail. I don’t want my mother having heart palpitations for a week straight.) But she is, and always will be, my bestest best friend. She knows me better than anyone ever will, and that’s saying something.

The bestest and cutest parents you ever did see. Trust me…their story is straight out of the books.

I told her straight to her face that she could never, ever leave me. I wouldn’t accept it. This was also after I tried with all my might to save a batch of cookie dough, but just wasn’t doing something right. I was throwing handfuls of flour onto the clump, I was barely touching it with the rolling pin or handling it with my bare hands. Somehow, I just couldn’t get it to stop sticking to my rolling pin to save my life. What happens? My mom comes over, adds one more handful of flour, kneads it like a ball of bread dough, and it rolls perfectly. How am I supposed to be a successful adult when I can’t even make a simple thing like sugar cookie dough?

Why won’t you work, damn it!?!

My mother is a Jedi Master, I’m sure of it.

My mother is the modern-day Shaak-Ti in strength, beauty and, most of all, wisdom.
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One thought on “I’m Pretty Sure My Mom was Taught by Master Yoda

    Louis Vuitton Watches for Women said:
    August 9, 2012 at 4:26 pm

    Excellent read, I just passed this onto a colleague who was doing a little research on that. And he actually bought me lunch because I found it for him smile So let me rephrase that: Thanks for lunch!

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