It's All About Mom...and Corn Fritters

How important is your family to you?

Sit anywhere close to me for five minutes, and I bet I will have mentioned my family or my cats at least once. I make no apologies for this.

It took me probably close to 20 years to realize that my mother was the best friend I always wanted throughout life. See, girls growing up, they have "friends" who stab them in the back and leave them in the cold for no reason at all. It happened to me more times that I care to admit when I was growing up. (Hell, it still happens, and I am 39 years old.) My mother would always be there to comfort me and have my back when needed...a fact I don't think I ever really appreciated until many years later.

Once I got over the whole sullen teenager "my parents suck" phase, I found out my mom was really one of the coolest women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. We share so many of the same passions and dreams. We are completely simpatico. This doesn't mean that we don't still have our share of fights...we are still mother and daughter, after all, and I can be quite the handful to deal with...but in the end I still know that she loves me deeply...and she knows that I feel the same.

Because of this woman, I developed a love of entertaining and cooking. She is just as frou-frou as any female on the face of the Earth...and I love it. She has a seemingly endless supply of things to make any number of dinner parties something that one will never forget. I am willing to bet that she could pull out party napkins to just about any occasion that pops up.

She has an impressive green thumb and can grow flowers from sticks. I know what the names of countless plants and flowers are by just being around her all my life. I think that impresses my husband a little bit, and honestly I am a bit impressed with myself at retaining all of this information considering I don't have any sort of desire to garden whatsoever. It's not that I don't like playing in dirt - alright...that's exactly what it is. Kneeling in dirt planting flowers, getting all hot and sweaty plus the knowledge that a bug is going to crawl on me is not my cup of tea.

My mother also taught me to serve others. By her example, I have learned how rewarding it can be to give my time in exchange for helping those who need it. From collecting canned goods for God's Storehouse, to helping build a shelter for a homeless man, to volunteering for Operation Christmas Child, to simply cooking a meal for a sick friend, she has spent her life looking for ways to make other people's better.



A lot of girls spend their youth vowing to never become their mothers...yet I can only hope to become the woman my mother is. I pray that I emulate her giving spirit and genuine love and concern for people. I hold out hope that one day my fiery temper I inherited from my father will be tempered with the propensity for being a peacemaker like she does. You won't get her to admit it, but she is a wonderful artist and has always painted beautifully. I wish I could do that.

My mother has also been a teacher for me in the ways of the kitchen. Through her and my father, I am actually not a bad cook. I learned how to can my own foods by years of watching them. I still can't fry chicken without burning it (sorry mom and dad), but I did master a few of her recipes thankfully.  It is never as special as eating your parents' cooking, but it is an acceptable second place if you learn how to make it exactly like they do.

That said, I really have to learn how to properly fry chicken. I can't call myself a southerner if I don't know how to do at least that. Sounds like I need a day in the kitchen with mom and dad where I learn from the masters.

The other day, I made sour cream cornbread from my grandmother's recipe. I had creamed corn leftover from the ingredients, and I promised to show you how to use them up by making my mother's delicious corn fritters.

Thank you for everything, mom. For your friendship, your guidance, your wisdom, your love, your patience, your honesty, your strength...everything...over the years. Thank you for loving me even when I was horrible to you. Thank you for never turning your back on me. To say that I love you just doesn't seem to cover what you mean to me, yet words are all I have to try and explain the depth of my emotions and gratitude towards you. So when I tell you that I love you, I hope you feel everything that those words encompass.