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For those who may be unfamiliar with the "Meaww Quiz" feature on social media, allow me to explain.
It is an auto-generated Q&A function accessible through one's Facebook page. It poses queries such as "Who would be in your mafia gang?," "Who were you in a former life?," "Who is your true best friend forever?" and "Who are the eight reindeer to your Santa?"
It then offers various responses based, I assume, on your friends list and the amount of correspondence you have with each.
It's cute and silly and fun and … probably just some guy in Dubuque stealing my identity and hacking my entire life.
Hmm.
Either way, I've been known to succumb to the adorableness of some of the questions posed, as I did just the other day when it asked, "Who are you REALLY?"
A curious inquiry, indeed, one I've long deliberated internally. Who am I, for reals?
According to Facebook: "She is Patricia. She sees the good in everyone. Sometimes, people misuse her kindness but she doesn't care. She is the bravest. Be like Patricia."
Well, I don't know about all that, but I do admit to wanting to see good everywhere. My sister and my besties are split on whether or not that is a wise m.o. Some of them think it's admirable and others think I have my head in, um, the clouds, as it were.
Bottom line is, I do try pretty hard to do the right thing. I'm THAT chick. Especially when it comes to being a mom. Because, as my three-days-from-being a 17-year-old can attest … I totally am THAT mom.
And he's not always so thrilled about it. Because it makes me a little, er, how do you say, kind of annoying?
Because I am…
The one who makes you check in when you get there.
The one who keeps you from driving in a blinding snowstorm or when gale-force winds just uprooted the lilac bush in the backyard.
The one who worries sick about your bronchitis turning into pneumonia or drives 114 miles per hour to the ER with you when your fever spikes to 105 degrees. I will then sleep on your bedroom floor and check your temperature every hour for the next 72.
Yep, guilty.
I look at the clock when it's time for your calculus test with my fingers crossed -- but only on one-hand, for good luck.
I make corny jokes you think are idiotic.
I'm the mom who barely survived her nieces and nephew going off to college and who is almost physically paralyzed at the thought that, in 18 short months, you will be the one moving into some dorm room on some campus somewhere.
I cry when I hear about kids your age getting bullied, sick, hurt or worse. I peek out the window as you drive up the road to go out with your friends after dark.
I blow you a silent kiss as I look in on you one last time before I finally turn in for the evening. Still.
Sorry.
But, on the up side, I am also the mom who makes homemade mac-and-cheese and toll house bars because you love 'em. I am the one who will run to the store at 9:38 p.m. on a Tuesday just because you feel like having Handel's or Ben & Jerry's ice cream.
I'll make a Taco Bell run at midnight on a Saturday for you and your fellow "Call of Duty" warriors. Speaking of which, everyone knows if they're crashing at Casa Kimerer, Mama K's getting up early the next morning to make you all a nice hot breakfast.
I'm the mom who screams her fool head off for you at your swim meets -- and for all your teammates, too.
I love your friends and will always warmly welcome them into my home and heart with open arms -- until they look crossway at you and then they're dead to me.
Kidding. Mostly.
So there you have it. That's me. I am Patricia. A little overprotective, kinda kooky but absolutely well-meaning.
And totally, undeniably, 100 percent crazy for the son who continues to grow more and more mature and grown up every dang day, even though she keeps begging him to stop it already.
Happy Birthday, Kyle!
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist who wants to wish her son the very happiest 17th birthday in the history of 17th birthdays. Contact her via her blog site www.patiriciakimerer.com.