That's right. This day is all about me. Because I'm your mom.
And I deserve it!
I'm not even talking about how I got you here,
Though that was a BIG DEAL!
I'm talking about the diapers, runny noses, and puke puddles.
And I know you don't remember the long hours I spent walking you around
In a dark house instead of sleeping because you were miserable and crying.
But I do.
Remember those times you broke my dishes and cut my curtains,
And messed up the room I'd just cleaned?
Remember getting snot and spit up and sticky hands on me?
Oh, and the garlic powder you dumped all over the living room floor when I was seven months pregnant?
All the "one more book", "one more lullaby",
"one more cuddle" requests every night?
I drive you where you need to go, help you cope with that bully at school,
and patch up your knees when you come out on the losing end
of a collision with the sidewalk.
Teaching someone to tie their shoes and scrub a toilet and fold their clothes
is harder to do than you'd think.
And good grief!
Why do you always steal all my notebooks?
I'm a writer.
Really, some things are supposed to be mine.
But mom's don't really get possessions of their own.
Then there are the things that I knew would be hard,
Like having The Talk.
But I did it anyway.
And you will never know about the times I cried
in the bathroom behind the door,
or hated myself because I'm not good enough at this,
Or prayed at the side of your hospital bed at 3:00 am with tears running hot down my face, trying to find faith, hoping God would let me keep you here.
And there is so, so, so much more.
But the real reason I celebrate this day,
Is that this is the day I remember my greatest gifts.
Not the plants in a pot you painted at school,
or the hand prints on construction paper,
or even the "All About Mom" paper you filled out
where you said I was 57
and that my favorite food was "ovackodoses" (avocados).
All four of you.
Every day forever.
All those things I talked about up there?
They taught me patience, and selflessness, and courage.
They taught me sacrifice, and forgiveness, and faith.
So much faith.
Love so big I can't explain it or even completely understand it.
Go on and give me the carefully cooked meal,
the hand beaded necklace with my name spelled out,
and (please) that nap you promised me.
I deserve those.
I really do.
But I will never fully understand what I did to deserve you.
You made me a mother.
You made every day my day.
My Chatter Page
Because I always have something to say,
"I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions." James Michener