Happy Mothers Day, Mom

Here's Mommie and I at my fifth birthday party: 

Oh, Mommie.

Even though Mommie made me give away all the presents but one, I feel like I learned an important lesson about selflessness and how to clean up after a belligerent drunk without dirtying my pretty dress. Later on we would play the wire-hanger game. Classic Mommie.

This is us a few years later, doing the Burlesque circuit:

Sing out!

Sure Mother and I fight sometimes over why I have to be the ass of the cow costume or why we're sleeping in the loft over a goddamn Chinese food restaurant again, but mother's always got big ideas and she always includes me in (most of) them. Sometimes we do big musical numbers together and sometimes I cry alone at night while contemplating our own murder/suicide. It's a real rollercoaster! Mother and I have a great relationship.

And here we are now, thirty-five years later:

The cats are always getting away, but at least we're together.

Here we are at home. Even though we've allowed the big beautiful house to fall into disrepair, my relationship with my mother is stronger than ever. We have lots of friends (cats) and lots of enemies (cats) but Mother darling and I are best friends.  We live in a pile of our own garbage inside a crumbling house of sadness and sometimes we listen to the radio as mother berates me for being an enormous disappointment. Our relationship is the strongest its ever been.

For anyone who's ever had a complicated relationship with their mother, this one's for you. And for my own mother, who is a weirdo lunatic nutcase and helped make me the weirdo lunatic nutcase I am today, thank you. Our relationship isn't some Hallmark card ideal, but imperfect and bizarre and real. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Thanks, Mom.