In doing research for my new book There Are Moms Way Worse Than You, I came across some absolutely wretched animal mothers, but some good ones too. So, here are seven Moms (sorry, “Mums” for those in the UK) whom I deeply admire.
Glenn Boozan, There Are Moms Way Worse Than You
And don’t worry, I’m not just going to cheat and list a bunch of mothers I’m personally related to.
My Sister
Okay I lied. But my sister was the inspiration for my book! I can’t not talk about her!
I’ve often heard the observation that having a child “changes a woman.” And though sure, motherhood changed things in my sister (her bladder capacity) it did not change her. Having children took the best qualities in Alex and ignited them; her tenderness, her creativity, her humor. As is evident by her two brilliant, funny daughters. Alright I’m done, no more moms from my personal life.
My Other Sister
I know. This isn’t a great look, lying to you once and then immediately again. But I’m constantly blown away by my sister-in-law Amber’s parenting skills. It takes a special kind of bravery to let your young child explore the world on their own; I imagine most parents would rather swathe their babies in bubble wrap for fear of what they might bump into, or stick in their mouths. But Amber encourages her daughter to discover the world; if my niece points to a flower, she’ll stop and have her touch it, or ask her what it smells like. My sister-in-law is raising a curious, smart, brave young girl. I’m so proud to tell people she’s the mother of my niece.
That Mosquito Trapped In Amber from Jurassic Park
See?? A mom I’m not related to.
In terms of leaving a legacy through your bloodline, I’d venture there’s no one more prolific.
Sure, that mosquito isn’t technically a “Mom,” in that it neither birthed nor raised any of its dinosaur descendants, but motherhood comes in all different stripes! I would go so far as to say that mosquito was the Eve to Dr. Hammond’s Adam.
Marie Curie
Though known for her achievements in science, Marie Curie was also a great mom. After being widowed in 1906, she managed to raise two children and earn a second Nobel Prize all on her own. One of her daughters even went on to win a Nobel Prize herself.
My Grandma Omi
Remember that thing I said about not mentioning any more moms from my family? We all make mistakes.
The word I think of when remembering my Omi is “brave.” She was the only female doctor in her graduating class (a bold feat, especially back then) and in 1952 boarded a giant ship, alone, for a completely new country where she didn’t speak the language. She is one of the Women who Came Before, those who walked the trail first, through thorns and mud, so future generations would have footprints to guide us. I feel grateful to have been a recipient of her bravery.
My Grandma Noni
Let’s cut the crap. I have too many great moms in my life, I’ve gotta talk about them.
All grandmothers love their grandkids, but few take as much delight in them as my Noni. From the smallest participation ribbon to the biggest winner’s trophy, she’s my biggest cheerleader.
That “Congratulations!” skywriting you always see above? Yeah, that’s her.
From My Noni, I hope to have inherited the most: her fiery spirit, her dedication to fairness, and her love of words. Anything I’ve written worth reading is because of her.
My Mom
As for the mom I admire the most, I feel lucky to be able to say it’s my own.
My mom taught me how to show love through actions. Whenever my mom has a good experience at a restaurant, she’ll call the establishment afterwards to give the waiter a glowing review. When, over the years, my childhood blanket had been cuddled to shreds, my mom had a tailor crochet it back to life. Whenever I’m sick, she’ll send me too many jars of Elderberry syrup, even though I hate the taste and I don’t think it helps (it does).
You can’t choose your family. But if you could, I’d pick my mom again every time.
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