That's my Mom...when she was a teenager. I suppose it's a tradition I post that picture on Mother's day each year. My mother died many, many years ago.
I missed saying Happy Mother's Day, but with the miracle of blogger I can actually make it appear as if I didn't.
Technically I did "say" it to Amy... those were the first words out of my mouth on Sunday after, "We need to get up" but I didn't write about it here.
One of the kids called Amy last night and asked if I had taken Amy out or bought her a card.
I overheard Amy's side of the conversation. It went like this:
"No."
"Because I'm not his mother...I'm his wife."
Sadly, I think that's symptomatic of how much we've grown to be like each other, I swear that used to be my line on Mother's day.
In any case, two years ago Amy spent Mother's day watching our eldest child graduate college. Next week, we'll travel to Ohio to watch our son cross the stage with his college diploma.
Last night, as I was at Gordon's cheering on the Spurs, Amy was calling my Aunt Kathy, the woman who took me into her home for a few years after my mother died in 1972 and tolerated me ever since. I don't know exactly what Amy said, but I'm fairly certain she thanked Kathy for being a Saint.
Happy Mother's Day Kathy...I love you for all you've done.
And Amy, as usual you're right. You are not my mother...but I'm so blessed you are my wife with whom I am well pleased.
I love you.
