To my momma.


This mother’s day is a really cool one.

I’ve officially been out of my parents house for a little over a year. Technically I was out of their house when I was in college but let’s be real, they paid all my bills.

So now, I’m a big poor adult with a car payment and rent and bills.

How did I get here? I don’t mean existentially.

I mean seriously, HOW did I become 25 years old and financially independent? When in the world did I become a grown up?

My mom.

This blog is for my mom.


As long as I can remember, my mom has been in every part of my life (whether I liked it or not).

I still remember being at gymnastic practice when I was 4. I had mastered the balance beam. Well I had mastered jumping off the balance beam onto a foam mat. One of my proudest moments. My mom was there.

She was at every single piano lesson, gymnastic practice, and dance practice that I ever had.

The recitals, performances, and games were normal for parents to attend but my mom insisted on being there for every single moment. She never missed any moment of my life.

When my sister and I were 5 and 10, my mom was getting her bachelors degree while working full time as a teacher. During summer, she would take us to the waterpark, the movies, and to putt putt and she would study while we played. She was always there. For everything.

The first time I had my heart broken was in the spring of 8th grade. I tried out for the high school drill team and I didn’t make it. To say I was devastated is putting it lightly.

But my freshman year, my mom and I decided that we would do everything possible for me to make it. So I took gymnastic lessons (to get stronger), she got me a membership at curves (to lose weight), and she enrolled me in multiple dance classes as well as hiring a private dance teacher to critique me during tryouts.

And you bet your ass she was at every single lesson that year. One of the rooms had the smallest window ever but I knew that I every time I looked over, I would see her smiling face. She never read a book or listened to music, she watched every practice, the whole time.

That year, tryouts were terrifying for me. I worked so hard but I kept thinking “what if?” What if I don’t make it, again?

She just kept reminding me, “No matter what happens, it will be okay. You will either tryout again or you won’t. It will be okay.”

She bought me a new leotard, she did my hair, and she prayed over me. And I’m pretty sure she tried to watch me during tryouts even though they put paper over the windows. She’s persistent, what can I say?


Well if you know me, you know that I made it that year. And I cried. A lot. Through high school she continued to be my biggest cheerleader. I was in like way to many clubs and organizations but she came to everything. She never missed a celebration.

My mom never missed a moment to show us how much she loved us. My sister played softball in high school and literally all my elementary memories are filled with Heather’s games, Heather’s parties, and Heather’s friends. We were always together. If one of us was doing something, we were always doing it.

My mom was so good about that. Making sure we always supported each other.


I think it’s easy to see the bad in people. To get frustrated with the world and all the negative. But in an almost annoying way, my mom is so quick to remind me of the good. To remind me of the love that can exist. Simply because of who she is. Ask any of her students or colleagues, the woman is loved by so many.

All I have is stories of her strength and the way she loved me. Over and over again.

When I was 18, I was in a really bad car accident. I broke my collarbone and I had to have surgery to repair it. She slept in the same room with me for two weeks straight while I healed, so she could give me medicine every 4 hours. Every time I woke up, she was there – she helped me do everything. She sacrificed her comfort, her time, and everything else in her life just to make sure that I was okay. And in that moment I realized, that’s what she had been doing my entire life.


The first time I went to Kenya, I found out a month before that I was going. I didn’t even ask my mom, I just told her (I know, smooth.) You know what she did? She made appointments that weekend for my shots & my passport. Since that time, every time I’ve gone to Kenya, she has come to the airport, picked me up from the airport, and made sure to call me about 20 times a day while I’m there.


She has always fought for me and supported me in ways that I can’t even begin to imagine. She loves me in a way that no one ever will and no one ever can. She inspires me to be better, do better, and love better. She recently received her doctorate and words can’t explain how proud I am of her.

She has spent almost my entire life in school and to see her do this, to finish this huge accomplishment, it’s such a reminder of how thankful I am to have her as an example.


If anyone believes the stereotype that women are “weak” or “too dainty.” I’d like to introduce you to my mother. Who raised two daughters while working full time, while getting her bachelor’s & masters degrees. And who now was working as a principle full time and got a doctorate in education. My mother who has never had anything handed to her but has fought for every moment of her life. My mother who was told many times that she “couldn’t do that” or “wouldn’t ever finish that” but in fact has done so much more and finished so much more than she probably ever thought possible.

Her favorite quote is “it’s never to late to be what you might have been” by George Elliot. She definitely embodies that in every sense of the word. There is nothing that she cannot do, I am sure of that. And because of her tenacity, her strength, and her courage, I know that there is nothing I cannot do either.


Thank you for always loving Heather and I so fiercely, for always fighting for us, and for always supporting us. I am so thankful that you’re my mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

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