For Skeemers

“My mother is a poem
I'll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.” - Sharon Doubiago

I know that I spend a lot of time making jokes about my Mother on this blog, but as I was sitting here tonight creating another post; I realized I wanted to dedicate a blog solely to her.

Before I do that, I want all of you to know that my Mom has never complained about my jokes here on the blog (quite the opposite, she is good at laughing at herself) and certainly would never have asked or needed me to write this; which in my mind makes it all the more necessary.

If you have met my Mother, you know that she is kind, and funny, and thoughtful, and chatty, and is one of the most creative and talented people you will ever meet. She is also a Mother who has always loved me deeply, been there to pick up the pieces for me when they fell, and always tried to make me feel like there was nothing I couldn’t accomplish, despite my self doubt. She is the person I can always call when I am crying, and the person I want to call when I have great news. She is an amazing Mom, and I am so lucky to have her.

I know you have seen in this blog that I call my Mom “Skeemers.” Strange as it may sound, it is a nickname I came up with for her when I was 10 or 11. I remember thinking back then that I didn’t want to call her “Mom” anymore, and I wanted a special name for her that only I called her. My love for her was so strong that I wanted a name just for me, and as there were 3 other people in the house who called her “Mom,” that name wasn’t good enough. So while I can’t explain to you why it became “Skeemers,” what I can tell you is that to me the name “Skeemers” means love; a love so strong that it needed its own word. It is the same reason I came up with “Dadders” for my Dad and “Doodle” for Katie. When there are people in your life who you just love so much, you sometimes need a word for them that is different than the one used by everyone else.

As I continue to post blogs about my parents visit, and continue to make jokes about my Mom (and my Dad a little bit… though he is more quiet, so there is less to make fun of), please know that the only reason I feel safe making fun of her (on a blog that she reads ever morning at breakfast) is because she knows that I love her enough to still call her Skeemers, even at the age of 34.

And the scary truth is, I am a lot like Skeemers, so I am sure that in 30 years I will look back at the jokes and think they are about me....though not the ones about packing old underwear... there ain't no way that is going to happen.

“All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.” - Oscar Wilde

So Skeemers, I love you, and thank you for being so good spirited about my jokes. I promise to dedicate the book to you.

besos,
boo