Moms da Bombs

I am a man of many Moms. I'm not sure why, but I have more Moms than I think is normal.
First and foremost, is the one who birthified me, and is my real Mom. I have been a slacker and not called lately. I'm a bit emotionally retarded of late, as life has thrown me several curve balls with a few more hanging over my head. Sorry, Momma. But I am super proud of her because she has plotted a trip to Mexico for herself for her upcoming birthday! Hooray, MOM!!!! I'm a tad bit jealous. I'm invited to join, but unfortunately that isn't in the cards for me. I owe you, Momma.
Then there is my Stepmom, who has a wicked sense of humor and who has done backflips, along with my father, to be supportive of my daughter and I. Thanks, Nana. I'm glad I get to see you and your kids this Christmas.
I have a Mom in San Antonio, too. She was the English Department Chair, though she kept nominating me to take the position. I would start every day I could by going into her room and hugging her. She adopted me early on to make sure the all-girls catholic school didn't eat me alive! Luckily, she has retired and is safe from them, yet she continues to make me want to hug her at the start of every day!
The Boomerang Project has given me many wonderful friends, and a few of them have decided to mother me, as well. Most significantly, my Detroit Mama wraps me in her fleecy wings of love as often as possible, and her cottage has opened its warm doors to me so graciously. Not a euphamism.
And now, I have a department that is 70% women who have all, at times, jumped up to offer me care and love and support, in a motherly way. They have brought me food, lectured me on caring for my back, given me the inside scoop on how the school works, and have come to look in on me when they have seen people blow up emotionally around me.
I don't know if I radiate a desperation that requires women to care for me like a wounded puppy, or if I just have a baby face, but whatever the reason... Thanks to my many Mommas. Sorry I don't write more!