A Post About Mothers Named Nancy Who Gave Birth to Me.

There is no one on earth quite like my mother. Those of you who know her, even just a little bit, know this to be true. She is a unique and special soul. I've tried my whole life to "sum up" my mom. People in my adult life have often asked me, "So what's your mom like?" And my reaction is always the same. I say "well..." a lot. And look up and around at different spots on the ceiling thinking about her, trying to think about what I could possibly say to describe her. And then I laugh a bit, and will usually say something like, "My mom is crazy. But in a good way." And then I stammer around some more and maybe tell a few stories about her. But in the end, there's just really no summing up Nancy Lee Hatch Collard. And those of you who know her, know exactly what I'm talking about.

I will say that I still feel a small tinge of fear every time I have to close my eyes to rinse in the shower. This may or may not be the result of my mom's sheer and utter delight at striking terror into the hearts of her children by holding disturbing halloween masks up and over the top of the shower curtain when we were growing up. There is nothing so shrill as a blood curdling scream echoing between the walls of a shower/tub combo. And nothing so joyous as my mom's laughter directly following.

I've often considered my mom to be a bit of a magician. I remember when she, on a whim, decided she was going to hold a fundraiser for a local food bank when I was in high school. Everyone watched in astonishment as she scurried around, organizing and planning, and two weeks later delivered a benefit concert food drive at the Idaho Falls's Civic Auditorium. She had single handedly rallied up the performers for a two hour set, featuring the Idaho State step team, a popular band from BYU-I and various other local and semi-local music acts. The auditorium was packed and the concert was a major hit.

The crowning jewel of the night was when a local news anchor, who was MCing the night, welcomed my mom out on stage to accept the funds she had raised in the form of a check. My mom made her entrance on stage, with her hands up in the air, raising the roof. And the crowd went wild. And my mom's roof raising got faster and more exaggerated. And they got louder. And she may have gotten her legs involved a little.... and dabbled in a little crowd surfing. *

She has been known to start conversations with complete strangers by asking if she knew them in the pre-existence. And becomes unabashedly huffy if she discovers you have altered one of "her" recipes.

She is physically incapable of not lifting her hand up in a last minute peace sign or wave directly as her picture is taken. Which always results in her little hand appearing as a blurry smudge. In every picture.

She has single-handedly kept Deseret Industries in business. I receive no less than three calls a week asking me to look up this or that artist's name. Always looking for hidden treasures among the thrift.

She became a dedicated stage-mommy when I, at the age of 12, insisted I was to be the next Britney Spears. With my mom behind us, my sister and I performed together as a duo called, "Double Platinum." My mom styled us in sweet gear that included matching velvet sweater/skirt combos, and scored us a gig as the opening act for Def Leopard at the Eastern Idaho State Fair. We officially quit the music biz after that performance. We figured there was really no where to go from there, but down.

Double Platinum rest in peace.

I have heard my mom claim on several occasions that she is, indeed, a masseuse. The truth is, she just has a freakishly strong hand grip and can subsequently massage you and any one else's back or feet or whatever without tiring. Ever.

I remember being on the court playing volleyball in eighth grade and double-taking the bench, where I beheld my mom massaging my coach's shoulders.... my coach's head rolled back in ecstasy, paying no attention whatsoever to the game we were playing. As I continued to play, I witnessed my mom proceed to scoot down the line, from coach to assistant coach to player, until every last person on the bench had received a good rub down. I observed this exact same scene at several of my siblings' sporting events throughout the years.

I could go on and on about funny, quirky or slightly odd stories about my dear, sweet marme. But all of those things just make her fun(ny) to be around. The truth is, she is the best woman I have ever known. She is a best friend to everyone. She is the greatest mom I could have hoped for myself and the greatest Grammy I could ever hope for my children. She gave me my "little, beady" eyes, my round face, and my wide ribcage. I hope she gave me her magical genetic wrinkle repellant. She single-handedly blessed every one of her children WITHOUT the need for braces (really, with no help from my dad... who we affectionately call "Captain Snaggle-Tooth.")

She taught me what it means to be a true friend, and any of my natural inclinations in that regard come directly from her. She is a leader, a teacher, and shining example of our Savior. In all of the ways I want to be better, she already is.

I love you so much, Marme. I wish I could be with you on this special day. Happy Mother's Day!

*It's a little fuzzy, but I don't think my mom actually did any crowd surfing at that benefit concert. But she definitely could have. The roof raising did, in fact, happen. Including the leg involvement.

Oh, and I had to include the full body shot of this one... to display my dad's awesome platform boots. So hot right now.