My Mom and the Superpower of Niceness

If you've ever wondered if on some level you may be a heartless super-villain, I have a good test for you. Meet my mom. Talk to her for at least two minutes. If you don't love her, you should probably check yourself into Arkham Asylum right away.

If relationships were odometers, my mom could go from zero to best friend in two minutes flat. It's like a superpower. She specializes in bonding over jewelry (or at least I remember two distinct occasions where total strangers were suddenly telling her about their lives because she admired their rings), but she can bond over anything, really. This is probably because she tends to assume the best of people. People like to feel that other people think well of them.

Sometimes I don't think I have that much in common with my mom, other than physically. Physically, I'm practically her clone. This means less packing for me when I go to visit her, since I just wear her clothes and shoes to church. It also means that I'm going to be cute forever. It's hereditary.

Relationally, I'm much more hesitant around new people. I'm more cynical and less trusting. It takes me a lot longer to warm up to people. I'm not always as nice as she is. But every once in a while, the nice genes engage and I can feel the stranger I'm talking to fall under the friendly superheroic powers my mom passed on to me. (Probably my mom doesn't see kindness in terms of power. But I did say she was nicer than I am.) 

When I was a teenager, my mom's friendliness was hugely embarrassing. She would talk to anybody at all, and for some reason that was not cool. Until I went to college, and all of my new floormates loved her immediately, and I realized that I had spent years being irritated at one of my mom's best traits.

So on her birthday, here's to my mom. She loves practically everybody, and practically everybody loves her back. Especially (for purposes of this post) me.

Happy birthday, Mom!