Happy Mother's Day.

My mum is pretty freaking cool. I mean, I'm certain everyone says that on Mother's Day: "My mum's the best, she's so cool, blah blah blah." But I mean it.
First of all, and I know this sounds lame, but my mum has really cool hair. She has an interesting hair cut, interesting colour and she's original. Not a single one of my friend's has a mum with the same cut. It's stylish. It's cool.
She also dresses with this kind of effortless "je ne sais quoi". She often complains that she's starting to look like an "ageing hooker" (I swear she actually says that to me), but it's not true. She wear Hollister sweaters and long-sleeved white tees. She'll wear dark-wash jeans, and slide on a classy, knee-length, knitted sweater-jacket thing. I know this doesn't really make sense to hear it be explained like that, but it works. She's stylish. She should be in a magazine in an article about ageing gracefully (without plastic surgery).
She got her belly button pierced when she was forty-three. She's thin. She's gorgeous. She's poised. She's the "cool mum". If she was in a movie, the teenagers would refuse to let her leave the mall, insisting she help with picking out prom dresses or something. I don't think that made sense.
I can tell my mum anything. She sent me away for boarding school when I was all of fourteen years old, and it was by far the best thing she's ever done for me. She loves me. She makes no attempt to hide how much she misses me. I'll admit, I hate that she cries about it sometimes, about missing me.
But I love her, I love that I know she hates me being away. I miss her too.
So happy Mother's Day, Mum. I miss you, I love you, I admire you, and I'll see you Tuesday.