Unconditional love, that’s why mom’s are great

Recently I posted about my brother, whom I hold in a high regard, despite his condescending nature and continuous cheeky quips to me. Inspired by an email from my mother that was sent to my sister, brother, and I, I thought I would devote a post to the woman that has put up with all of our shit, especially me (I’m the youngest and the rumors about us are true).

My mother and I always had a unique relationship. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve inherited many of her  traits, such as her gift of gab, her need to always be moving, her “11” personality, and her shiny disposition. I did NOT inherit her fashion sense and I thank my lucky stars every day for this.

My brother, sister, and I were lucky growing up, as our mother worked from home so when we left our homework at home, or felt sick our mom always made it to us within a timely fashion. It also allowed her flexibility to coach our sports teams, such as basketball and field hockey. Some of the Capps were stronger athletes than others (hey, Mandy, you did have a great 3-point shot), but she coached without favoritism, and benched me many times for my “attitude”problem. Whatevs…

Nathan, me, mom, and Mandy (with baby Sam inside) at Christmas 2010

We were raised to think independently, find what makes us happy, and with lots of autonomy. Outsiders questioned my mom’s view, especially when my brother quit his job as a geologist to go into debt for his Master’s in Film Criticism at Boston University. My sister is a candy dispenser of children. Then there’s me, jet-setting across the world for adventure, dating foreigners, calling my mom at all hours in the morning when I’m super down or super happy. My mother always knows best, but she lets us all make our mistakes, some are great lessons learned others I think to myself, “why didn’t I listen to my mother?” If I listened to my mother, I wouldn’t get to ask that cliché question.

Our family relishes our holiday traditions, and one such tradition is chopping down our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving while our parents tell us the story we have heard every year since birth. The story is about my parental unit’s first Christmas tree and, without string to tie it to the top of the car, they used my dad’s 8 foot scarf. It didn’t work…

In addition, we pop in the Muppet Christmas Carol soundtrack and John Denver and the Muppets Christmas CD. Yes, we are a nerdy muppet family that names our dogs after muppets. (Eventually I will do a post on my dad and how he used Kermit as his wingman in college.)

To keep us involved in the process while I’m in DC, my bro in Oregon, my sister in Maryland, my mom took pictures on her phone and sent us the play-by-play of them in their old age, trying to cut down a tree. It was disastrous looking, and I thought my mom had killed my dad in one of the photos…

I hope my mom doesn’t mind, but I want to share part of what she wrote to us after going at the tree alone, and it still makes my eyes dewy to read it:

“Your dad and I missed you all so much today. We are so very happy and proud of all three of you as you have found your places in life and we know this is the natural order of things but I have to say a few tears were shed today because there are times when we miss just the five of us. We would not change a thing. All of you have so much going on in your lives. Enjoy the adventure. Your dad and I look at the three of you and realize how totally blessed we are to have you all in our lives. Each of you bring new and exciting events to our lives each year.”

Keep in mind, if all of us were in the house at once, we might make each other crazy.

I know I’m bias, but I am so grateful I’ve had such a supportive family that let me the freedom to find my own way, even when they knew better. I never questioned having a loving home, and I never knew that it was something that wasn’t a give-in. No matter which way my siblings and I go, no matter what life will throw at us, we’ll always an unconditional love in our family.

I know I’m a lot like my mom and make her crazy. My personal favorite way to do this is to ask: “Am I fat?”She gets really pissed off. It’s cute.

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