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Words to my mutha


I’ll be 30 soon (you’re getting old, eh?).

It’s taken me a long time, but I wanted to share with you something I’ve come to realize about the things you did as a mother over my own past 10 years as a mother:

I get it.

All those things you did as my Mom when I was a kid that I absolutely hated you for-I get it.

The times you got angry. The times you cried. You were so frustrated, You felt confused and unsure of the “right” thing to do. You wished I was born with a manual that could give you some sort of guidance. You desperately wished that I would understand where you were coming from. You wished this parenting thing could just be a little easier from time-to-time.

I get it.

Those chores you made me do. They weren’t a punishment. They were you making sure that I developed the skills and abilities to survive as an adult. They were you making sure that I was an active member of the family helping out with the things that needed to be done. They were you delegating tasks from your to-do list to make it even somewhat manageable.

I totally get it.

The times you responded with “because I said so”. You weren’t being unreasonable. You had a damn good reason, but were too tired to articulate it in a way that I would understand (without exhausting yourself further). You didn’t always have time, patience, or energy to rationalize to your irrational toddler/child/pre-teen/teenager. You needed an occasional simple solution.

I truly 100% get it.

The times you didn’t play with me. You liked to play with me–just not all the time. You wanted me to be self-sufficient. You wanted me to be creative.  You wanted me to nurture my imaginative self and see where it could take me. You wanted me to take initiative and find something to entertain myself with instead of depending on you.

I honestly absolutely get it.

The look on your face when I woke up early. You weren’t angry with me. You were disappointed. You worked hard taking care of me and wanted just one hot cup of coffee before the chaos of the day began. You wanted some time to collect your thoughts and have a few moments to wake up slowly before I began demanding the things I needed. You needed a minute where nobody was touching you or talking to you. You just wanted some solitude.

I seriously get it. SOO seriously get it,

The music you made me listen to (I still know all the words to “Bat outta hell”). The times you said I couldn’t go to a friend’s house. The sunscreen you made me wear. The gardening you made me do. The t.v. shows you didn’t let me watch, The homework you made me finish. The volunteer work you signed me up for,  The clothes you wouldn’t let me leave the house in. The healthy food you made me eat. The swear words you muttered, The mistakes you let me make.

Mom, it’s taken me nearly 30 years–but I GET IT!

You didn’t do things to embarrass me, or to frustrate me, or without thought and consideration. As my mother you did everything in your power to do what you felt was right for me. That’s what great Moms do.

A great Mom.

That’s what you were.

That’s what you are.

Lucky for my kids, I’ve learned how to be a great Mom from you.

In 30 years I’m sure they’ll get it, too,


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