Dear God, thanks for choosing Olivia to be my mom. And God, I pray she never ends up on my show.
P.S. She wore this to church in Harrisburg, PA.
The picture had to be taken 4 times. Why?
“Mom, get off the rug so I can get your shoes in the pic.”
“No. Mommy want it in. It’s da Purple Carpet, more famous for me.”
Last week I posted a celebration about my mom, Olivia, and the wonderful news about my entry in this year’s Chicken Soup For the Soul “Thanks Mom” edition. I invited you all to share with me stories about your own heroic hottie, and promised 3 blessed winners a copy of the book. Congratulations to Ashley Hammen, Tonya Mann, and Mimi Uong for being such women of gratitude as the result of such incredible, stand out women. I want you to know that I am praying every year from this day forward that you’re mothers feel stronger, healthier, and more in love with life than the years before. Thank you so much for sharing your stories, enjoy your books I’ll be sending out, and send my xO’s to your Mom’s.
Happy Mother’s Day out there everyone.
Why I Heart My Mama!!
So as I was reading your blog this am, thinking about the next episode of HDIL, I felt inspired
Just kidding….a little.And every day, I feel blessed that an amazing woman changed mine. Thank you Mom!
Ashley Hammen, Los Angeles CA
My Amazing, Amazing Mom
It’s hard to know where to start when talking about why my mom, Betty Mann, rocks … She IS my rock and always has been! She would tell you that all she ever wanted to be was a mother, and I’m so blessed that she got her wish. From sending us to school each day with a special message written on our napkin signed “wubbit, kissit, huggit – mom” to making every day special and every holiday unforgettable, she truly is a storybook mother. Listening to her talk about her own childhood and losing her mother as a teen, I’ve learned to cherish the time that we’ve been given together. Watching her success as a mother, a wife, a business woman, and a friend, I’ve learned about strength, compassion, drive, and acceptance. And from her actions I’ve experienced the true meaning of unconditional love.
Nearly a year ago, on May 19, 2009 I had an accident and ended up in the ER with a broken femur. I was scared and alone when they performed my first surgery, but when I woke up my parents were there and my mom never left my side. It was all so unexpected and surreal, as with any accident I suppose, but none of us knew what was in store or how long the healing process would take. I was in traction for about 24 hours followed by a second surgery where a metal rod was placed in my femur. I’ve never experienced such pain and such a quick loss of control. After one week in the hospital, it was time to return home, but I required round-the-clock care. It was either a live-in caregiver or I would have been transferred to a rehabilitation hospital indefinitely. Without hesitation my mom insisted that she would be there to care for me and nurse me back to health, and she was there every minute or every day for the next 3 1/2 MONTHS! I went from being a completely independent, successful thirty-something to literally needing help to move. I had to learn to walk all over again and as crazy as it may sound, to accept and rely on the help of others. I couldn’t drive … nothing. My world was turned upside down, but my ROCK was still there – beautiful and strong to support me in my darkest hours. When I would cry, she would hold me. When I would start to give up, she would help me to remember and talk through all of the blessings in my life. Each week she would celebrate my triumphs by reminding me of the strength I’d gained and pointing out the steps I was making toward a full recovery. And without ever having to speak a word, she would know when I was feeling guilty that she had to give up her summer, her time with my dad, time with friends, time on the golf course or in the garden, time doing what she loved. She would find me looking out the window or just sitting quietly, and she would put her hand on my shoulder or hug me and say, “There is no place else that I would rather be then right here with you. I love you.” She was always strong for me, unconditionally. But at night I could hear her crying and talking to God. She would thank Him for giving us strength and then she would beg him to take away my pain and give it all to her. It still makes me cry when I think about it. She was already giving me everything, but she was still praying to give me even more. In those moments I would pray as well, asking God to dry her tears, giving thanks for blessing me with the most exceptional mother, and for helping me to see that sometimes in the most difficult hours of our life we are given the greatest gifts if we’re open to receiving them. I know my mother is a gift and her unconditional love has given me the strength to move forward. Six weeks ago I had my final surgery, and she was by my side again. I am so thankful that I get to spend this day celebrating her and all that she has given to lift my life back up. I have no idea how I can ever show my true gratitude but maybe sharing this story is a good start.
- Tonya Mann, trendtracker and blogger of http://beautytipsy.blogspot.com/
My’s Mom
My mom isn’t a fashionista. She doesn’t tell jokes, nor does she like jokes. She never read to us bedtime story like my dad does. We never had the mother-daughter talks about sex, boys, and relationships. The only advice she had ever given on this subject matter was simply just don’t hang out with boys. The day my dad passed away, never once did she hug me and tell me to cry on her shoulders.
Yet every Mother’s Day I appreciate her, and I thank God that she’s my mom and not someone else’s. Her worn out shirt and jeans and torn up $5 Wal-Mart shoes that she wore all four seasons are so that my sister and I can dress the way we want to dress: our decent outfits for church, our glittery outfits for special occasions, and our warm furry jacket for winter and our flirty sun-dresses for summer. Not to mention our matching shoes, scarves, and accessories. Now if she were to have a decent income, she’d probably be able to dress as how she used to be before getting married: her floral short-sleeve, button-up shirt that tells the world her love for nature goes beautifully well with her brown flared out pants that emphasizes her legs; along with the sun straw hat that draws attention to her long, black curly hair. But her $10/hr part-time job took that ability to express herself away from her. She is not a fashionista, but her old closet was a timeless treasure.
She doesn’t make us laugh, but she ensures that we walk out the door every morning feeling happy the rest of our day. How? She makes the most delicious breakfast, lunch, and dinner ever. There’s always food when we wake up, when we get home from school and work, when we come home from crazies parties. She always invents new foods like applesauce spring rolls, Korean BBQ beef salad, Asian burritos and tacos…etc. Every time one of her new “invention” is put on the table, we always have a great laugh and have an awesome meal!
Her bedtime stories are usually news she read from the newspapers, heard from the neighbors, or obtained from neighbors’ gossips. Most of the time, they’re always something along the line of violence, murders and rapes. “Oh you need to know these to prepare yourself for the real world and for the worst possible scenarios,” she’d say. & that was probably why no hugs or shoulders were given when tragedies do come to our lives.
I’ve learned everything firsthand from life: from boys, to love to relationship. I’ve learned to pick up myself from ruins, but if it hasn’t been for the observations of my mom and the hardships she had to go through, I probably would’ve given up on myself a long time ago. You don’t know how hard it is for an immigrant, single mom to raise two daughters in a foreign land. Nobody’s there and nobody will be there–only you can take care of yourself. It’s a tough lesson to swallow and a tough lesson to teach. You are your own teacher because only you can use the knowledge you’ve gained to change yourself. My mother, a woman with not many words, has been my greatest mentor and the heroine in life.
- Mimi Uong, San Jose
If you haven’t thought about what you’re gonna get yo mama yet for Mother’s Day in 7 days- start thinking.
Now I realize writing this that not everybody has this type of relationship with their mama. Trust me, growing up with a young and overly sassy mom was um.. a little hard for me. (“No, go ahead mom, you and my friends get out and I’ll drive around to look for parking.” to reading the occasional “Wow!” or “I don’t like him either” written in purple ink over my diary entries.) Howevs, Mom was a necessary nut that made me the delicious peanut butta I am today. (UM..did u MISS my blog about what Mom did in Vietnam??) Well, because I rave so much (no glowsticks needed) about mai beautiful making the woman I am today, Chicken Soup for the Soul actually approached me to share a story about mai mother, Olivia Mai. I did, and it was published! So I’m going to share my submitted story here below and encourage you all to grab this year’s Mother Edition of Chicken Soup For the Soul called Thanks Mom. It’s SO adorable and has the most unexpected celebrity contributors that will make you see a whole different side to them thru their stories.
And guess what? I’d like to gift 3 free books to the first three friends of mai blog that can tell me why THEIR mom rocks and a picture of you both. Email me at jmail@iheartjeanniemai.com. Mai picks will be posted next Sunday, Mother’s Day. Good luck!
PS. I get that it’s a Hallmark holiday. Yes I celebrate her everyday of mai life, but I’ll be damned if my mom drives around our hometown of San Jose seeing flowers at the stoplights for sale and friends asking “What did you get for Mother’s Day??” without knowing I love her like a fat kid loves cake
Chicken Soup for the Soul Entry
Olivia Mai rocks. She’s my mom, and because of her, I learned that fashion is powerful.
Mom’s daring, playful, and unconditionally loving personality were three qualities that taught me being attractive has nothing to do with good looks- yet had everything to do with great style. Growing up was a show with my mom- and not for anybody else but us. We glittered it up for grocery shopping, gave makeovers to friends who stopped by, and had fun with style to stay current because of creativity, not money or trend. Mom believed looking good said two things- 1) I care about myself and 2) I want you to care about you. It’s very weird how it works that way – taking intentional time to dress yourself builds a confidence to feel good, therefore making you give your best to everyone. People seeing your positive energy through your style will think about the way they look, and by being confident with love you invite them to celebrate themselves without saying a word. Fashion is powerful.
For the first few years of my life, everything was cupcakes and cashmere. I had no problem being me, and had the most enjoyable time decorating my moods each day. It was the first day of school where I had no idea I would have to learn how to stand (out) on my own two feet.
All month Mom and I had been preparing for the first day and I had everything set the night before to walk in and make some new friends. I had decided my first day color had to be a powerful purple, and sprung outta bed that morning ready to throw on my purple and grey plaid jumper with my fave tee underneath that spelled “J-E-A-N-N-I-E” in bold black letters, funky fresh pink fishnet stockings, and glossy purple rubber galoshes that my mom had purchased for rainy weather. (It was 74 degrees and sunny that day.) She helped me with the finishing touches of sparkly bangles to my wrist, gave me a wet kiss on my cheek, (careful not to smudge my glittery Wet n Wild lipgloss), and walked me into school for my very first day.
The moment I walked into my classroom and took off my coat, every single kid stared. Parents, too. Mom saw Mrs. Clark, my new teacher, and left my side to say hello. Immediately I felt the eyes all over the room pan head to toe over my outfit. Several of the parents raised an eyebrow, while many of the kids pointed and laughed. For the first time, I felt the emotion of insecurity. Scarier, I felt like I’d rather be anybody else but me. I saw that everyone else had slicked smooth hair, barrettes, matching dresses and socks, appropriate sandals and shoes. I sat down wishing I could take off my galoshes and hide.
By midday I was known as Jeannie Weenie Wild. (Thanks Tory Millen.) At lunch nobody sat by me, and at the end where new friends waited in pairs to be picked up, I waited by myself. When Mom rolled up, I lunged myself in the backseat, kicked off my boots and headband, and slouched low in my seat. I didn’t even wait for Mom to ask what was wrong. Through tears I wailed about why she let me go to school looking like that and why didn’t she buy me clothes like the other kids and why did she name me something that rhymes with Weenie and why-
At that moment Mom immediately pulled the car over, took off her seatbelt, and turned around with the most thrilled elated expression of joy that I wondered if I was in the right car. “They already know your name?? The kids??? What did they say?? That’s WONDERFUL!!”
I sat there dumbfounded like, “Did you hear what I said?? NO!! I don’t want them to know my name! I hate school! I’m never going back!! Everybody is too mean and I hate my clothes!”
The next words my mom said I never forgot: “Con”, (which means my child in Vietnamese), “this is the best day ever. I raised you to stand out and be something to talk about. I don’t care what they’re saying, as long as you are noticed and unforgettable, you are my daughter and I am so proud!”
Those words changed my life forever. That very second her words slipped into my ears, I understood the difference between “owning it” and “being owned”, a philosophy I advocate today when adopting new styles. Never again, would I let anybody else tell ME, who I was. She had spent those years teaching me to celebrate myself, and now was my turn to learn how to make a statement. And its built the wall of protection I have in this business for anything said against me- because I know as long as my actions come out of love and a fun spirit, I’m a “Do” all the way.
Thanks to Mom, I use that confident foundation to stack the rest of my personality upon to influence others through fashion.
And just so you know, I wore those purple galoshes the next day, too. J
Growing up in the bay area, it was always a must to be a “ride or die bitch.” Urban dictionary defines this as
1. someone who is down for you no matter what.
My mom one upped that phrase in Vietnam on Feb 27, 2010.
The whole idea was mine to start. I wanted to ride it. I said I would do it. I was the one who carried the helmet, twittered to the world it was goin down, and brought the friends and family to watch.
Then I saw it in real life-and yes. I backed down.
I’ll just stick to shaking what my mama gave me.
