As everyone in the western world should be aware, this past Sunday was Mother’s Day. The day set aside to thank all our moms for putting up with us, loving us and doing the best they could to set us on the right path in life. If you forgot what day it was, then my condolences, you’re in for a world of maternally inflicted guilt. And we all know that no one does guilt like a mom can.

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Being adopted, I technically have two mothers. The one whose genes I carry and the one who tucked me into bed every night. I was only 3 days old when my biological mother gave me up for adoption and gifted me with a life far better than anything she could have ever given to me herself. For that I will always be grateful to her.

But my “real” mum is the one who got my hair cut so short she had to spend 6 months dressing me in pink and telling everyone “no no, she’s a girl.” She’s the one who got the brunt of my sass and bad attitude during those stormy teenage years, and the one who nearly died of fright every time I fell off my horse, stilts, pogo stick, tree fort or whatever other device I could find to inflict injury upon my youthful self. (Mum, Dad, what the hell were you thinking letting me have a pogo stick? Seriously, were you trying to kill me?)

From my mother I learned about emotional nuance, “I will always love you sweetheart, but right now I don’t like you very much.” And the gentle art of empathy, “Look what you’ve done now, you’re bleeding all over your new shirt. If you’ve split your head open how are you going to come to the store with me hmm?” Her logic was always infallible too. “If you do not stop carrying on this instant I will give you something to cry about.”

She applied miles of bandages, an ocean of Bactine and hydrogen peroxide to all my cuts and scrapes, and the day I broke my collar bone she was the one who took the x-ray, then pointed to the film and said, “Good job, I’ve never seen one broken that way before.” She was always practical, even at her wit’s end, and I know that behind every threat, lesson and pained sigh there was always an everlasting source of love and acceptance.

So… thanks Mum, for making me into the woman I am today. Dad’s right, its all your fault.