It’s Mother’s Day. It’s rare that we don’t spend it together. Last year you came to help with my kids while I went away to have some “me” time with my friends. That’s just like you. Always helping me before yourself, but at the same time, I know there’s no place you’d rather be. You love everything about being a grandma and mom. I almost came home this weekend to see you. I’m kind of regretting not doing that now.
It’s hard living up to having this amazing mother. I feel pressure to be like you. I feel bad when I’m not. It’s like my imperfections glare in the example of your perfections.
I wonder how we ended up so different. There are some similarities. We’re fiercely protective of our children. No doubt about that. And should the umpire make a bad call, you and I would be the first to let him know.
Even though I had this practically perfect example of what a mother should be, I feel like I’m not. I’m a bad cook. I hate cleaning. Laundry makes me stabby. Forget ironing, that’s what Downy Wrinkle Releaser is for. I yell at my kids. I even swore at one the other day. I like having alone time. I let myself focus on my dreams. I don’t spend every waking second thinking about them. But I love them tremendously.
The truth is I depend on you, mom. I know you’ll always be there for me. You’re always there for my kids. You’re super nana. I feel like my kids would rather live with you than me. I can’t say I blame them.
Whatever they want for dinner you make them. Whatever game they want to play, you play with them. Whatever they want for their birthday, you get them. But most importantly, they see how much you love them when you look at them.
I did get my empathy for you, though, and on Mother’s Day, I am thankful to be one. But my heart aches for those who long to be mothers and can’t. For those who have lost children and are reminded of that hurt constantly. For those who have lost their mothers and wish they were still with them. For those who don’t have good relationships with their own mothers or just have crappy ones. I think of them often.
Perhaps I didn’t get all of your best qualities, mom, but maybe I got the most important. I will continue to learn from you and stop comparing myself to you, because we are different, and that’s okay. Instead I will cherish you and be thankful I have you.
So thank you, mami, for teaching me and for still loving me even though I am an imperfect child and mom.
Thank you for teaching me about faith.
Thank you for not getting that mad at me when I wrecked your car.
Thank you for loving my husband as much (if not more) as me.
Thank you for visiting me almost every month since I moved to Texas.
Thank you for helping me get a college education.
Thank you for cleaning my house when you come to visit.
Thank you for remembering all of my children’s birthdays.
Thank you for treating my friends like they’re one of your own.
Thank you for late night talks.
Thank you for making my birthdays special.
Thank you for phone calls when I need them.
Thank you for your example.
Thank you for unconditional love.
p.s. See you soon!