Low self-esteem. Childhood trauma. Blah blah snore.

Happy Mother's Day! I thought that today I would share a couple of stories about why my mom is indeed a true rock star. And an awesome mother.

1. The Christmas Tree Incident

As you may imagine I was one of those only children that got everything she ever wanted. I was also one of those divorced children that had two sets of everything, because my father was damn determined to prove that he loved me more because he could buy me better crap.

So it's Christmas time. I'm about 10 or 11 years old. Mother informs me we're off to get a Christmas tree. Back story: Having spent too much on her only child for Christmas, she no longer has the financial means to purchase an exorbitantly expensive Christmas tree. She has called her hippie friend who suggested that she just go cut one down. Realizing the brilliance of this plan, onward we proceed.

I cannot pretend to know the thought processes of my mother's brilliant mind. She really is quite intelligent. She starts driving down US 52 towards Lexington. I maintain a certain amount of apprehension.

The next I know she pulls over and jumps out of the car, hacksaw in hand, and runs up the hill. On the side of 52. She is going to cut down a tree on the side of 52. Holy crap, I proceed to freaking lose it.

By the time she has the damn tree halfway sawed down, I'm almost to tears. I'm swamped by emotions: scared, embarassed, anxious; I'm freaking out. If I would have known how to swear at 10 years old I would have been swearing up a storm; I'm convinced she's going to jail and my grandmother is not going to be happy to come and fish us out of jail. Needless to say she finishes cutting down this tree without incident and we haul into the car.

In retrospect I realize that she was just as freaked as I was. She sawed down quite possibly the most unnattractive tree known to man. She knew what she had to do. She had no time to dawdle by being choosy. The sheer determination that her child wasn't going to go without is actually quite admiral.

On a side note: I was there when she informed her hippie friend where she got said tree, and he was floored. His exact words, "Holy shit Pam, you could've gotten arrested. I meant get one off somebody's land somewhere."

That hadn't really crossed her mind.

2. Don't go across the back yard!

Fast forward a couple of years. My grandfather has passed and we have moved into the house directly behind my grandmother to help her out and so she could aggravate the shit out of my mom. Seriously.

During the summers I used to just run across our back yard to Mamow's back yard in the morning and hang out with her during the day.

This particular morning I am awakened by my mother's frantic phone call.

"Anna Gray. Do not run across the back yard. A prisoner has escaped."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Do not run across the back yard. I'll call your grandmother and have her come and get you."

Nevermind the prisoner was some white collar joker that escaped from Raleigh, my mother was convinced that I, little ole me, was so special that this escaped prisoner was headed straight for our house to abduct me. I'm trying to find admirable qualities that my mother has in these stories, hence the reason for me telling them. I guess this one elucidates her sometimes paranoid tendencies. Along with her extremely strong altruistic nature. Heaven forbid you threaten or harm me in any way, you'll most definitely be sorry.

3. I'm not riding 6 hours back to North Carolina with 40 lbs of shit in the car.

This really is just a funny story. No real meaning to it.

Mother arranges for a family vacation with my grandmother, she and I. We're going to the Chincoteague peninsula to watch the wild ponies swim. To Virginia we go.

If you've never vacationed with your family then you've no idea how fun it is. I'm being completely sarcastic. The problem with our family vacations is that we're all the exact same person.

My grandmother is one of those people that has to stop at every Roses she sees, because the ones in Virginia may be different than the ones in North Carolina. So we stop at the Roses in some one horse town in Virginia. God only knows where we are.

This particular Roses happens to have 20 lb bags of manure on sale for dirt cheap (no pun intended). My grandmother also is the type of person that cannot pass a good deal. She decides right there on the spot that she needs manure. And 20 lbs is not sufficient. She needs at least 40 lbs.

An argument begins. At first it was a very tame and grown-up argument. My mother pointed out that Mamow no longer had a garden. Mamow pointed out that she has a flower bed. Mother points out that there are stores in North Carolina that have manure. Mamow points out what a good deal the Roses has. By this point they've managed to draw a small crowd.

The great thing about my Grandmother is that she tends to pick fights with my mother for, well just really because she can. Mom can never recognize these fights, I can. Mamow is totally setting Mom up. It is at this point that Mom screams at Mamow: "I'm not riding 6 hours back to North Carolina with 40lbs of shit in the car." Mamow starts to giggle and Mom realizes she's been set up. And then she begins to cackle. And I was right behind them.

My relationship with my mother is strained at best some days. I'm sure on some level she's to blame for my issues, but for today I'll let that slide.