The lucky winner of March's coveted "Meet and Greet" spot is none other than my mama. My mom goes by many names, including but not limited to Sherd, Cheryl Mae, Ashley/Chance/Kendall's mom, and of course, mama. But if I had to give her a new name, I'd call her "World's Best Mom."
If you know my mom, you know how kind and funny she is. (It has often been said of my mom that you can hear her coming—by her distinct laugh—before you see her.) If you don't know my mom, you're missing out.
Although I have my mom to thank for the infamous jerry curl, everything else she has ever done for me more than makes up for my bad hair years.
In most every aspect, I am 100 percent my mother's daughter. We share a love of sports and board games, the same inability to be a do-it-yourselfer, a middle name, and an incredible bond that I consider myself lucky for every day.
My brothers and I like to poke fun at my mom for her jumpiness. If Chance is peering at her, inches from her face, while she's napping, her eyes slowly open and she lets out a gasp not unlike one who has just seen a ghost would utter. Kendall sneaking around the corner and calmly saying "Boo" will cause her arms and legs to flail wildly when she's sitting in her recliner, thoroughly engrossed in a John Wayne movie or a football game. Even her cell phone going off in her pocket can elicit a sharp intake of breath and a gasp. "Oh, Sherd," we always say, "you crack me up." Sherd has been her nickname for as long as I can remember. Her name is Cheryl, and she was named after her grandfather Sherwood. Why her name is spelled with a C instead of an S remains a mystery to me. But anyway, the moniker Sherd is short for Sherwood.
My mom cries when she's happy, sad, scared, or laughing uncontrollably. And because I am my mother's daughter, so do I.
My mom has driven hours to come comfort me, even without me asking, on several occasions. She knows when I just need my mama and always has the right words to say. I know I can call her at three in the morning if I need to. I try to keep those types of calls to a minimum, though, because middle-of-the-night phone calls are another thing that sets her heart to racing.
Through relationship woes, triumphs, hilarious mishaps, and everything in between, my mom has been there for me. She is more than my mother; she is my best friend.
Because my mom would be absolutely mortified if I posted even one picture of her for the world (or my handful of readers) to see, I regret to inform you that today's post is sans photos. Just so you have an idea, though, my mom has short reddish-brown hair, glasses, an always-present smile, and is beautiful, on the inside and outside.
I know I've painted quite a picture of my wonderful mom, and none of it is embellished, but I'm not sharing with anyone but my brothers.
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