Happy birthday, mom!

To the woman who taught me how to dance to the Gipsy Kings

To the woman who let me be defiant and opinionated even if it meant I would reorganize her room without permission, take my hair out (which she lovingly did) and insist on doing everything my way.
To the woman who never once said ‘stop singing’ (even though I’d wake up doing it, do it while showering, while in a box, with a fox…)
To the woman whose smile and laugh lights up any room…

To the woman who calls me, “Bella.”
To the woman who lets me mimic her accent in public
For working full-time and still cooking dinner (and not killing Chris and me when we would call you at work to tattle on one another).
For shuttling us to dance, baseball, singing, soccer, and whatever the “flavor of the moment” was.
For making all our friends welcome at home.
For all the tantrums, hissy fits, and melodrama you witnessed thrown by your oft-possessed daughter.
For all the tough decisions we made together.
For all the growing up we did together (which only made us stronger).

Thank you. Happy birthday, mom, I love you! I’ll be there for the celebration in spirit!

<3,

Bella