She's so much more than just tolerable

You see....I was a little self-deprecating, but not towards myself, in my comments of Dad's last post. I said that mom was so much more tolerable on the beach... insinuating that she is intolerable when not atop sand. I owe her an apology. As she is, much more than tolerable. Her comment of my comment did not show the depths of my hurtful comments, as when I talked to her just today, and I tried to weasel out of my comment saying that "i was just self-depriciating... just to you instead of me" she said that was the very definition of mean. And it is. And I'm sorry.
SO.... how do you un-offend your mother? There are yo-mama jokes... which are always funny. YO MAMA SOOOOO FAT (and tolerable), SHE WORE A MALCOLM X SHIRT AND A HELICOPTER LANDED ON HER. Good one. Good one. YO MAMA SOOOO FAT (and tolerable!)... SHE SAT ON A DOLLAR AND CHANGE CAME OUT! Ah ha ha ha. Ok. I'm done. Wait wiat. Sisterbaby did some googling for me... YO MAMA SOOOO SKINNY(and tolerable)SHE HOOLAHOOPS IN A CHEERIO! Ah ha ha ha haha.

So... here's how tolerable my mother is:
She loves my babies as much as I do. She said one time that I'm the most motivated person she knows. She doesn't give me compliments if I don't deserve them; therefore, when she tells me I look good, I really look good. She buys all the Christmas and Birthday presents. We know. She invented Halfy Birthdays, Crazy Suppers, and the Proud of You Song. She didn't buy into me needing hi-top Reeboks in the 4th grade, and I'm apparently better for it. She feeds Dad. She says that if people know you're wearing make-up, then you've got on too much. She told us our whole life that it wasn't about us. Everybody's too worried about themselves to be worried about what you look like. However, when I put my wedding dress on, she was quick to say "Oh,honey, today... It's all about you." She's on my favorites list in my iphone. When something good happens she's on the top three list. When something bad happens, she's on the top three list. She worries about us all the time. But, when she steps into the sand, on any gulf, her worries slip away for a sec, and she runs around with her enviously bird-like legs, pecking around, letting her toes get in the surf, and she doesn't worry. We love seeing her love the beach is what my comment should have said. But it didn't. And now, according to her teachings, I must apologize until I'm asked to stop.
I'm sorry.I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm real sorry. Sorry mom. I'm still sorry. Real sorry mom. Sorry I hurt your feelings. I shouldn't have said that mom. That would have hurt my feelings too. Sorry mom. Love you mom. Why do you even tolerate me? Sorry. Sorry mom. Hey mama, I'm sorry.
Sorry. Will a glass of wine fix this? Do you feel better yet? I don't. Sorry mom. I'm real sorry. I'm a shit head. Sorry mama. I won't do that again. It's not nice to not-yourself-depreciate. Sorry. Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry. Sorry mom. I don't want this to start sounding sarcastic, but I really am sorry.

Please accept my public-esque apology.
Erin Amanda