OK, I know it's pretty standard-issue stuff to claim that your own mother is the best mother in the world, an angel from heaven, and a damn funny woman, but folks, I've got proof. Blog, in case you have never before been introduced to my amazing Captain Mommypants, please take a moment on Mother's Day to salute her, for she is all that is good and golden in this world.
Aha! I hear you skeptical mother-lovers out there. "THE BEST?" you ask. "Well my mother is pretty wonderful, too, so this had better be some pretty good proof." Well hold on to your hats, my precious petunias. It turns out... (looking furtively over both shoulders, then stage whispering) my mother is fireproof.
Yes, that's right. I said fireproof. See this glove?
This glove was on my mother's hand a few weeks ago while she was over at her church helping to renovate the sanctuary on account of it's shudderingly awful green color. And also because the roof had collapsed in the recent rains, but mostly because of the color, a particularly lurid shade of mint green. All things considered, the roof falling in was considered a sign from God that a redecoration was in order, as going to church there was like being on the inside of a toothpaste tube.
She and a bunch of her parishioners were spending the afternoon tearing up the green carpet, painting over the green walls, and removing the green paint from the woodwork and trim around the sanctuary. So there was Captain Mommypants, merrily scrubbing away at the baseboards with a steel wool pad, some heavy chemical stripping agent, and a pair of rather flimsy rubber gloves. Now I wasn't there, so I can't vouch for the story (though the above photo rather speaks for itself, I think) but apparently as she was clearing a patch near the fusebox, the steel wool hit the fusebox, and the heat from the friction, the chemicals and whatnot... KABOOM! Her entire hand went up in a giant fireball. Ever cool, calm, and collected, did Captain Mommypants scream and flail about? She did not. Instead, as flames engulfed her arm and climbed towards her head, she hustled her way out of the church ("so the church didn't catch fire!" she explained), and with her ungloved hand, reached over, grabbed the burning glove off her hand and threw it on the ground where somebody else stamped out the flames.
So how badly burned was she?
"Not even a heat rash!" she told me, looking more than a little mystified.
I think I'm not the only one that loves my mother.
Happy Mother's Day to all you mommies out there, but especially to my very own, very special, very amazing Captain Mommypants.