Dear Mom,
I remember clearly the day I sassed you so hard that you looked me square in the eye and said, "I hope you have a child exactly like you someday." I laughed and shrugged it off. It made no sense. Didn't you mean that you wanted to ground me for eternity? Or didn't you mean that you wanted to take away my MTV?
It took nearly 20 years before the zing of that admission rang some truth. And holy hell, Mom... why would you curse me like that!?
It is a hard pill to swallow, but I must admit that you were right.
You were right that it is possible to simultaneously love and dislike your own child in a single moment of time.
You were right that scraped knees and banged-up elbows are sometimes harder for the Mom than for the kid to deal with.
You were right that there is nothing hiding under the bed. I know. I just checked.
You were right that no matter what, kids would always behave better for darn near anyone other than Mom.
You were right that I would never sleep a full night sleep again. Not because the children keep me up, but because my brain can't quit.
You were right that I would still sneak into my son's room and stare at his chest to make sure he is breathing. Even at 5 years old.
You were right that kids shouldn't eat candy after 3 p.m.. Ever.
You were right that kids would change marriage in profoundly difficult ways.
You were right that my teenage brat pack friends, Tiffany, Ashley and Jessica, would turn out to be tyrants. And I will probably warn my sons about problematic friendships too.
You were right that Mom pants are goddamn comfortable.
You were right that nothing brings out aggressive, over protective, don't-mess-with-me reactions like rushing a sick or injured child to the hospital.
You were right that 7:00 p.m. is not too early to want to go to bed.
You were right that vegetables wouldn't kill me.
You were right that spills can be cleaned, hair grows back, heartache heals, but tattoos are forever.
You were right that inner beauty is more important than outwardly appearance. But damn, those Doc Martens were cool.
You were right that days would never end while the years would slip by hardly noticed.
You were right that a station wagon is not the death of freedom.
You were right that motherhood is the easiest/hardest most over/underrated job there is.
You were right that I would someday realize that although I try my best I have no idea what I am doing.
You were right that there is no greater love than that between a parent and a child. Even though there was a time when I was sure I would die for a certain rock star or author. But nope. Doesn't even compare!
Now before I get all crazy with emotional tender hearted stuff here, let me point out that there was a whole lot of stuff you were totally wrong about (TV did not rot my brain!) But you did a pretty damn good job. And while I will never admit this out loud, I do steal mom tips from your playbook all of the time. And sometimes, if I listen hard enough, I can hear your words echoing in my own mom lectures.
Love,
Now I Know It All