I realize that I’m a few days removed from Mother’s Day for a post dedicated to the baddest bitch I know, but I find that holiday to be un poquito bootleg anyhow. Don’t think that I’m not utterly obsessed with the woman that birthed and raised me. Quite the opposite, actually. EVERY day should be one in which she is celebrated, played only the finest Pitbull songs and treated to Miami’s best croquetas.
So, when one of my favorite writers/women/humans wrote an ode to her “vieja” on Tumblr, I had to follow suit with a dedication of my own.
My original ride or die, Momma Duarte had me eight days after her 18th birthday. It’s an important fact to note since being a teen mom is no easy feat. Even less when you have to raise the kid on your own. The absence of my father never bothered me though. To me, it was normal. Sure, other kids had two parents, but I felt like I did too. Because moms kept me swagged out in the hottest Disney gear. Sent me on every single school field trip with the most enviable Lunchable. Bought me that fancy hot pink Motorola Razr. And never let me feel like I was going without.
Aside from material things, I got so much more from my mom. For starters, my sick dance moves (although, her attempts to teach me salsa and bachata have failed throughout the years). My sass, class… and ass. My hustle. My appreciation for Willy Chirino’s greatest hits. But, most importantly, she has given me her blind support. I want to move to L.A.? She’s there cheering me on (and calling dibs on almost all my possessions). I want a 305 tattoo to ~stay close to my roots~? She’s asking if she can come with. I have an improv show that I know she won’t fully understand? She’s sitting there and laughing at everything I say. She’s kinda sorta the best freaking person I know.
So, if you’re lucky enough to have a mom like mine, don’t just give her flowers on some random day out of the year. Smother her with affection, ALWAYS. At least call her once a day. Cook HER some empanadas for a change. After all, this woman deserves it. She’s been dealing with some form of your bitchassness for years.