She arrived last night after a 5 hour drive from Houston. I was proud of her success in treking through downtown Dallas in rush hour during a severe thunderstorm warning. She smiled politely and held her tongue as she weaved around the boxes in my apartment that held the half of my possessions I decided I didn't feel like unpacking. Opening my refridgerator to see a grapefruit, strawberry yogurt, diet coke and a piece of cheese still didn't phase her positive outlook on my food, or lack there of. As she crawled into bed last night, she quickly swept off the tiny crumbs of dirty on the sheets from my dog's toenails and settled in comfortably.
Once upon a time, this would not have been my mother. The boxes would have been unloaded, sheets changed, dog washed and grocery shopping accomplished before we would have headed to bed. You see, my mom and I are quite different. She is a perfectionist; tidy is her middle name and she can do about a million things at one time. I, on the other hand, am...hmmm...what do you call it?? A MESS. I am a big fat mess that is blind to the cotton ball that missed the trash can or the diet coke can that has been sitting on my dresser for a week.
The dynamics in our relationship have slowly changed. She has evolved from care-taker to friend. Instead of fixing the mess I call my life, we enjoyed looking at our facebook pages and chatting about nothing. I love my mother and am excited for her visit and the fun we will have just spending some much needed and over due time together. All you have to do is give her a glass or two of wine and she's ready to party. Or as she says it, "Wooo, that glass of wine sure made me feel relaxed!"