Today, December 12th, my sweet mom, Jillian turns 50. WOOOHOOO! You fucking rock star;).
Sorry, that may have been a bold statement to start this blog, but I feel so much pride in who my mother is at 50. I was born when my mom was around 29. We have spent 21 years together. I feel like I have some words to say about this woman. She isn't your typical Jill. She's a ballerina, bee keeper, a wise soul with quick wit, a nurse, cancer survivor, mother, wife, friend, poet, ocean lover, a pastry chef, a woman who swears sparingly and meaningfully. Those are a few things. To start this blog off right I must admit I owe my naughty sense of humor to my mother, she's a nurse, a morbid sense of humor follows her. Nurses are the kind of people you write books about. Every time I have pushed my boundaries too far, my mom is the one person who always understands why I'm still laughing. We LOVE shock value humor. I remember at 16, calling my mom to announce I got my nipples pierced. Let's chill out for a second, and let me explain. 1. I didn't actually get my nipples pierced, I was just an asshole who derived joy from stressing out her mom (don't judge me too harshly, as an adult I know this was mean) 2. This isn't supposed to be a TMI moment, like I said, Jillian and I love shock value humor, and when have I ever held back? Back to the story. I remember giggling with my friends as I dialed my moms number, it was pure adrenaline. My mom is savvy to my ways. She knows in a moment of anger she may be giving me the reaction that I find hilarious. Instead, she answered the phone and carried the conversation quite normally. All in her soft, relaxed tone. I was the one who was shocked. I was expecting getting cussed out, quite thoroughly, but as I said earlier, Jill only swears when she means it. Unlike me. My mom rarely loses her temper, but when she does it's best not to be on the receiving end. That woman can use her words. If you ask my brother about making my mom mad he would tell you the same thing, but he would also tell you that his little sister(me) poked at mom's patience like it was my job. I am forever grateful of the mother I was given, she was so patient with me. My mom's patience with me has roots as deep as my earliest memories. As a little girl I was a hurricane in her garden. I over watered plants, and pulled her most beautiful flowers to be dresses for fairies. This never made her angry, instead she looked at me as though my imagination was magic. It's a pretty powerful feeling when someone looks at you, as though you are magical. That look she gave me as a little girl in her garden, is the same look she gives me as an adult, when I make her proud. Powerful, and to me, magical. I love my mom for all she is, she is my best friend. I find it refreshing to see someone who is everything authentic, and unapologetic. I love that you find contradictions in people to be poetic, you love everything that is deep and soulful. I think you carry what you love in the way you speak and the art you create. I hope this next year is bright. I want you to wake up everyday of 50, with good coffee, and even better people. Love you mom.
Libby Anne Groseclose