I really hope that heaven has Wifi, because I have a few important things to tell you, and it’s imperative that you hear them.
Mom, how the heck did you do it?
You passed away when I was only 23. At that time, my sole focus was getting wasted with my friends and making out with as many boys as possible. The “idea” of being a wife and mother was still light years away.
It’s been 8 years since you left, and in that time you’ve become a Grandmamah (as you always insisted my future children call you). You have 3 grandchildren, and 2 of them are under 2 years old. Mom, listen, things are getting crazy around here.
Once I became a mother and stepmother, then and only then, was I able to fully grasp the immeasurable amount of love you had for my sister and I (and all the stepchildren you acquired over the years).
It’s apparent that I owe you a big fat apology. However, you always used to tell me never to apologize to you or feel bad on your account. Therefore I will put it to you this way…
I have witnessed first hand how much patience it requires to answer 312 questions in the span of 2 minutes. Thank you, for always listening and replying with enthusiasm each time we interrogated you and constantly demanded answers about every aspect of everything on earth.
I have heard countless ear piercing shrieks due to toys not being shared and things not being fair – thank you for never shoving gags in our mouths and locking us in the closet, I know how tempting that solution must have been for you.
I have broken up wrestling matches and held children back from pouncing on one another so many times that I’ve purchased a whistle and a flag. I remember how often Sister and I would claw each others eyes out and throw lamps at each other. Thank you for calmly breaking those fights up and forcing us to hug. You will be happy to know she is now my very best friend today.
I’ve had to make dinner for the family when all I wanted to do was lay down and rest. Thank you for ensuring we always had dinner on the table.
Thank you for teaching us right from wrong, even when it resulted in stomping feet and obnoxious tantrums. They suck. Tantrums are the worst. Especially at Target. But that’s a story for another time.
I feel the exhaustion, desperation and confusion that comes along with motherhood. I’ve experienced moments of wanting to give up and questioning whether or not I was cut out for this.
I’ve spent never ending nights staring at my newborns to make sure they are still alive. Rocking them to sleep when they are sick and changing the sheets when they have an accident.
I’ve navigated through days at the pace of a zombie, covered in spit up and diaper cream with one eye half shut, because I was up the night before.
I know the selfless sacrifices a mom makes to ensure her children are safe, happy and healthy. I feel the love I have for my children when they giggle, or run through the house singing. I am consumed with gratitude when I watch them playing together in a different room, creating a bond that will last a life time. I know the struggles and rewards that come along with accepting, loving and raising another woman’s child as one of my own. (I can’t believe you did that 6 times!)
If you were here with me now, I would hug you. I would hug you until it got weird and you pushed me away because I feel like I owe you so much. Everything I feel, see, and experience in motherhood – is something you have already been through, with me.
All the doors I slammed in your face. All the times I snuck out and disrespected you, the lack of appreciation and gratitude, I understand now how difficult that must have been. I took your love for granted; and if I knew then, what I know now, I would have been able to see that your love was never actually granted.
You didn’t have to put a roof over my head or food in my mouth. You didn’t have to buy me my favorite CD’s or take me shopping for the Tommy Hilfiger shirt I had to have.
You didn’t have to wipe my tears when boys broke my heart or cheer from the stands at all of my games. You didn’t have to buy me my first car, furnish my first apartment or let me move back in when I couldn’t pay the rent.
You did it because you chose to, because you were an exceptional human being. I know it;s a little late, but I understand how much you loved me Mom, even at my most unlovable times. If I can be half of the mother to my children that you were to us, these kids will have an incredible life.
I get it now. I love you forever. Thank you, for everything.
Your Pain In The Ass First Born…
About the author: Tiffany is a wife, mother of 2 under 2, and a 6 year old bonus daughter. She enjoys writing, reading, watching Shark Tank, cooking (terribly) and spending time with her family. Her writing has been featured on bluntmoms.com and thoughtcatalog.com Her dream in life is to take an uninterrupted nap. Facebook: www.facebook.com/jugglingthejenkinsblog Website: www.jugglingthejenkins.com