Dear Mom,

We celebrated my Mom’s birthday yesterday. Her birthday is not until Tuesday, but since her special day falls well on a Tuesday we took yesterday’s beautiful day to celebrate her with mushroom swiss burgers, chips and queso, carrot cake blondie bars, and a Guinness (St. Patty’s Day). Before dinner Shana, Mom, and I went to English Rose in Amarillo and Shana I treated Mom to a piece of Kendra Scott jewelry of her choice for her birthday gift. We “ooh’d” and “ahh’d” at all the pretty things and we all found some pretty pieces of jewelry to take home (happy birthday Mom) and enjoyed the little bit of shopping. Jasper kept us all entertained with his antics and adorableness as we visited at the house.

On the drive home I started to think of the special bond between mothers and daughters. I obviously can’t speak for every mother and daughter and their relationship, but I can speak about the relationship with my Mom. As I grow older every year I see my mother in myself more and more. The saying of “one day you’ll turn into your mother” is tot-ally true. I always joke that I can thank Mom for my chicken legs. Well her and my Granddaddy. I also thank her for my go-go gadget arms. My Granddaddy probably had something to do with that too. More than once when people have seen me from behind they’ve mistaken me for my mother.

Most of you know my Mom and have known her either your whole life or her whole life, but a little quick background. Donna Lynelle Miller grew up in Hartley, TX she was the youngest of three boys and therefore a princess. I have no doubt her brothers would agree and come up with some story of how much a princess she was. I always like to tell the story of how my Mom got her middle name. My Granddaddy's name was Lloyd and my Grandma was Wanelle. I use to lovingly spell 1L. Hahaha! Anyway, there you have Lynelle! I always enjoyed hearing stories from Mom about how’d she make her own clothes in high school and cruise the drag in Dalhart. Being able to spend time in her old bedroom in Hartley growing up always made me smile. This was Mom’s room when she was my age!! Reflecting on these stories growing up reminds me that Mom used to be just like me. Probably a bit insecure, maybe a little shy, defiant against her parents, stayed out past curfew, athletic, wore glasses, and probably drank some beer on a back road.

Wait….was she just like me or was I just like her?

Besides my physical attributes I recognize a few other traits and quirks I inherited. She is an extremely self sufficient woman. You did read that I said she made some of her clothes, right? She actually made my prom dress senior year and Shana’s prom dress. A McCall’s pattern, sewing machine and instant glam! She is very handy. Build, paint, install, wire, and sand. She can do it all! I consider myself handy, not quite to her caliber, but in a pinch I can get the job done. Due to her handy abilities she is also very crafty and creative. She can create anything in her mind’s eye. She can talk measurement and construction with Jarret like any other carpenter, my thoughts drift when they start getting too precise, this is where I am not like my Mother as I don’t think I have the patience for that type of craftsmanship.

Her creative heart is embedded in my heart. I have a love as she does for design, good craftsmanship, originality, and the quirky. The quirky is my favorite passed down trait. I always find myself on the other side of the quirkiness line. It’s what makes me uniquely like my Mom. The quirky in design, humor, and life! I mean did you see our basement on Keeler? Shana and I joke with her about being a hippie. However, we both have a bit of hippie in our hearts too. The ability to love freely (to be clear not free love, but love freely) and look past the way things are “suppose to be” and be a bit more open minded or at the very least see both signs of the coin. This might be a more modern definition of hippie, but it fits.

Growing up Mom was a mom. There were rules, punishments and chores. She wasn’t our friend. She was our Mom. This is not to say she didn’t love us. Our house was full of love and laughter. There was always an understanding we could share anything with her. I had a very happy blessed childhood. My parents did their job. Today however, I know my Mom as a woman, not a mother. She is still my mother, but we are friends. I know what hobbies make her happy. We take each other’s advice when shopping for clothes together. We share and talk about work and recipes, all the normal types of conversations that are shared between girlfriends. It’s friendship.

The relationship with my Mom is special. I without a doubt know Shana would say her relationship with Mom is special. Our Mother is special. A woman who showed us how to be strong, efficient, and dependable she showed us through example to be women, who aren’t afraid to be ourselves, love fiercely, work hard, and be thankful to the Lord for what he provides. She nurtured two very different girls and somehow seamlessly guided them to become the women they are today. Now as grown women who have started their own families and look to start them she will be there to give advice and help guide us through another chapter of our lives.

Happy Birthday Mom! Happy Birthday Friend! Happy Birthday Nonna! Happy Birthday Wife! A lady of many hats that you wear so beautifully and gracefully. I am thankful for you. I love you. Cheers!

Love,

Your favorite oldest daughter.