Olympic Mama

So my friend shared this video on facebook today. And even though I have seen it before (probably during the Olympics) I watched it again. And even though I cried before (probably during the Olympics) I cried again. And, of course, even though I have thought about my mom before (more recently than the Olympics, I'm glad to say) I thought about my mom again.
I remembered how she woke up before dawn each morning to shake me awake, prepare my breakfast and rush me off to before-school practice. She is the reason I'm a phenomenal Olympic athlete today.
Just kidding.
You can all go back to breathing again.
But I did compete in our own back yard Olympics last summer. Photographic evidence:

Thanks, mom.

I owe all my lack of gold medals to you.

My mom did wake up early every morning but I'm not sure about the before dawn stuff, I think the sunrise was at a more reasonable hour back then so it was probably easier to beat the sun out of bed. No matter how early she started her day, I don't think she shook any of us awake, I remember waking up of my own accord. I'll have to ask some of my siblings; that's a good way to get eight different truths about the matter of our childhood wake up times.  
Anyway, she didn't really rush us through life, the way so many of us rush our children along. My mom didn't push achievements too much either. My mom let me be a kid.
Yet, my mom taught me so much. Literally. She was my teacher for school as well as the regular mom stuff. My mom is still teaching me. Thankfully, no more math.

Tonight I hugged a friend, several years younger than I, beside the casket of her mother.  I can't imagine the emptiness of that loss.  Even if we grow taller than our mom, we don't outgrow them, do we?

My kids and their {pretend} athletic mom (she wears yoga pants).
June 2013