Momisms.

Moma's Day is fast approaching and for the first time in my entire life, I won't see mine.
Is that not sad? It got me thinking of all the reasons I love my mom. Not just the standard "She's there for me when I need her." "She takes care of me when I'm sick." and that whole "She gave me life" thing.. But the things that make me think about her and the things that come to mind when I think of my mom, Deidre Lynette Holaway Thomason.

She always cooks on Sundays. Occasionally when I was growing up, we would go get chicken at Tootie's or MAYBE go to Pizza Hut in Oakdale. But most of the time when I pitched a fit to go eat nasty restaurant food, my mom had "something in the slow cooker." And looking back, it was always yummy. And not just on Sundays, either. Every last day of the week. I can probably count on my hands the times my mom hasn't cooked. And she still gets me a bowl of cereal when I ask for one. With ice, please.

She loves Jazz. I can hum along with every easy listening tape and cd known to man because of that woman. She had this one tape or cd (it was during the transition time so I can't really remember which it was) called "Sunday Drive". She probably paid $5 for it at Books-A-Million, but everytime we drove to Alexandria on Saturdays, we listened to NPR and that cd. I can hear it in my head right now. Madness.

I couldn't tell you what her degree is in, but that woman knows everything. She's better than any psychologist or psychiatrist at telling exactly what is wrong. She's the one that taught me about people. How to read them, how to deal with them, and how to tell the good ones from the bad ones. She's usually always right about those things. And as much as I'm going to hate admitting this, she's really good at telling the good guys from the bad ones. If my mom doesn't like a guy, I probably shouldn't waste my time on them. Given, there hasn't been a single one I've liked that she's liked. When the day comes that my moma likes a guy I bring home, I'll be calling up Pastor Holmes to marry us quick before I manage to scare him off.

She believes in me. Always has. Even when I didn't deserve it. When I was lying straight to her face, she never questioned me. I think she only wants to see the good, even when the bad is staring her in the eyes. More than anything, she prays the good will overcome the bad. Thank God for a praying moma.

She has this smell. Its the same no matter what perfume she's wearing at the time. Which is usually "Romance" by Ralph Lauren. But her moma smell is different. It's comforting. It's one of those smells that you can't describe for anything in the world, but when you smell it you know exactly what it is.

She's funny. Sometimes. Haha. No, she's funny a lot, actually. My dad and I always give her a hard time about her sense of humor. When she cracks a joke we usually make a big deal about it because her humor isn't the same as our goofy, sarcasm. She sees the humor in a more dry, ironic way. She's always reading us something she thinks is funny and we might not be busting a gut, but it's always funny in a different way. That's another thing; she's always reading something.

She's a "realist", whatever that means. I always gripe at her for seeing the negative side of things. Like when I got my driver's license. I passed, had my picture taken for it, drove home. Then, she throws a wet blanket on my day by showing me an article on msn.com (her favorite site, I believe) about a 16 year old girl who wrecked her car and killed everybody in it. That's a "realist" for you.

She's really strong. She's had to be. She keeps her family in church. She is always the spiritual leader when the occasion has called for it. My moma loves God. And then she loves her family.

She has these laughing fits. I think it's because she tries to be so serious so much that she builds up all this hysteria inside and it just has to come out. Once we were driving home from church and I was eating fried chicken and chocolate (I know, why..?) and I picked up a crumb from my lap and ate it thinking it was chicken. It was really chocolate and I said "That could have been a bug and I would have still eaten it!" She died laughing. She laughed for miles. To the point of tears. She had to pull over into the post office parking lot because she couldn't even drive anymore. It wasn't even funny!! She just "needed the laugh." And to this day, "The Sports Bra" always makes me laugh.

She loves my dad. She's crazy about him and he's crazy about her. They still dance around the house and as much as it sickens me to see, I love the fact that they still go around kissing on each other. I hope someday, somebody loves me the way they love each other. Why she fell for him in the first place, is beyond me. He was a tall, skinny, red haired army guy with an earring!! But he's charming and funny. And let's face it, they had some good looking kids.. =) go listen to "I'll Always Love You" by Taylor Dayne and picture my parents slow dancing in the living room giggling like little kids. That's a scene from the days of my life at home.

She's a great writer. Really. And I wish she could get a book published. I wish I had time to list all the phrases and sayings I've heard come out of her mouth in my lifetime. That's a book, right there. Stuff Mawmaw said to her, and no doubt Mawmaw Big said to her. Stuff southern ladies say. Stuff I'll probably say to my kids and they'll laugh at me just like I laugh at my mom.

And even though I don't tell her enough, she really is the best moma.

My Moma.