Love, Black sheep

Mommy used to play the kontrabida role in my life so well it could’ve merited her an MMFF award. (Oops! Hash tag: mommyissues. But operative words: used to.)

Or was mommy actually the bida and was I the family’s black sheep all along? Interestingly, it makes sense because what’s not to love about her? She cooks the tastiest kare-kare and leche flan in the world, and so to say, makes everyday meal a banquet simply. She’s pumped with creative juices she can turn scrap to precious stuff. She laughs at the inside jokes actually shot at her and cries at the drop of a hat. She’s extra friendly she can tolerate even the most irritating entities (i.e., gossip girls for neighbors). And she’s, I don’t know, too coolly paranoid to pressure me to bring home a boy friend. What up! As if this weren’t enough, she’s too hands-on a mother and too giggly a girl friend.

I couldn’t imagine having another mother (although I did when I was still little and stupid, wtf) because the universe made her one of a kind.

Mommy, I love you to bits! Happy birthday! My wish is that you’d discover this blog.. or not!



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