Last week kicked my butt. Usually a huge fan of daylight savings time and the additional hour of light it brings with it, this year all it seemed to bring was one less hour of sleep.

By Friday morning I was dragging and chose to sleep in an hour later than normal. When I hit the road, traffic was heavier than usual and there was an accident on my route to work. Sitting in stop and go, bumper to bumper traffic, I turned on my running playlist, and cranked the volume.

I decided not to care about how the thumping bass might annoy the drivers in front and behind me or how silly I looked dancing behind the wheel. I needed the distraction and improved mood the music was likely to deliver.

It worked. I was distracted, happy and felt inspired. I thought about everything I accomplished throughout the week and what I hoped to do over the weekend. I thought about my silly kids and the stories I had to share with my mom the next time we talked.

I smiled as I thought about my mom and it made me miss her. She lives four and a half hours away and I don’t call her often enough.

As I composed this blogpost in my head, I thought about how what I’m about to share is likely to embarrass her. She’s quiet, humble and shy. She’s silly, creative and smart. She’s kind, loyal and wise. She’s the best person I’ve ever known.

For more reasons than anyone has time to read about, my mom is my “best person” and I hope someday I’ll be what my mom is for me; I hope to be my kids “best person.”