In honor of the day that is so quickly approaching, I thought I would write this letter to you. I want you to know that I don’t hold it against you (too much) that you shoved me away from you when I was born and told the doctor you didn’t want to hold me. Although, I should hold this against you because it was the 70’s and maybe I wanted a psychedelic birthing experience, but no, you had to be all natural about it. Sheesh. Ok, you were in pain, but come on. I was cute when I was born, and let’s face it, not all babies can say that.
The first really solid memory I have of you was when you were pregnant with Tim. I remember you were sitting in your rocking chair, and you grabbed my hand and told me to feel the baby. I remember smiling with you and sharing that moment. Oh mom? When Tim was born, I’m sorry I pulled the emergency cord off of the wall in the bathroom at the hospital. Really, it was your and Dad’s fault though because he is the one who snuck me in the room in the first place. It was kind of your fault too because you were holding that ugly little prune you gave birth to. He was not cute when he was born, and had you been holding your CUTE child with the brown curly hair and pigtails instead of that prune it wouldn’t have happened.
Oh Mom? When grandma gave us those paddleballs for Christmas one year, the balls broke off, and you wrote Jill on one paddle and Tim on the other…It was not funny. It’s still not funny. OK OK, it’s funny, but when and if I ever have children I hope you buy them paddle balls and when it the ball breaks off, and I write their names on the paddles, and when they get mad I’m going to tell them to come and talk to you about it. Oh yes, I will blame you for that one.
Hey Mom? I’m sorry I didn’t understand that when you try to dump a bucket of stuff on someone from above the door, that I didn’t realize you had to attach the bucket to someone to keep it from hitting them in the face. In hindsight, you were really cool about that, because I know it had to hurt. Thank you for not tearing into my hiney over that one.
I know I was a pain in the butt for a little kid. Do you remember that time I was having a temper tantrum in my room and I was throwing stuff? Do you remember coming in there and saying “OH YOU WANT TO THROW SOME STUFF HUH?” and just randomly picked up stuff from my dresser and chunked it across the room. Ummmm, to this day I find that hilarious. Especially since you put a dent in the sheet rock. It wasn’t funny at all though when you took my door off of the hinges for slamming it. Not funny at all. In fact, I am going to maintain you suck for that one.
Mom, what were you thinking when you signed me up for peewee cheerleading? I never said I wanted to be a cheerleader. It never crossed my mind to be a cheerleader. I was way too busy playing softball (and watching your pale complexion get fried while you came to my games), playing golf, horseback riding, and being a busy kid to want to be a cheerleader. It also started the curse of my being bad luck for any football team at any school I ever attended. I know you were trying to get me into new things, but I couldn’t even do a cart-wheel for crying out loud. I probably could have bench pressed those girls, but short skirts, bouncy curls, and ribbons in my hair? That wasn’t me at the time. You know, if I didn’t have dirt under my nails, I just wasn’t happy. Thanks for listening though and not pushing me to participate in the activities I didn’t want to participate in. I love you more for that and accepting that I didn’t want to be a cheerleader, more than I was upset with you for those few miserable months of short skirts and ribbons in my hair.
I don’t remember being too much of a pain in the butt as a teenager, although I am sure I had my moments. I remember being really busy a lot and trying to mostly just get you to do what I wanted. If I was a pain in the butt and I don’t remember it, thank you putting up with that!
Mom, I can tell you when I moved home from college, that has been my favorite time in my relationship with you. That is when I felt we were friends on top of being a mother and daughter. That is when you were wise enough to let me start making my own decisions in life, and even though we both know you still said what you thought, you didn’t go overboard in trying to control a young adult. I would have resented you for that, but you were great.
You are great. I feel like I am blessed each day that I was born to you. There is no one who could ever begin to compare to the mom you have been for me, and I am lucky you were the one who came into my life. I love you!