To My Mom

Mother's Day obviously takes on a whole new meaning for me these days.  I got flowers made from Sassy's cut-out hand-prints, a plant that resembled KeKe's little handprint, a homemade cookbook, a magnet using Sassy's school picture, a little fill-in-the-blank book about the hats I wear. . .   Let's just say that Mrs. L, Sassy's teacher, is a Pinterest fan.  :)  I MUST remember to do some Daddy crafts in June!

I always stop to think of my own mom.  And the apologies I owe her.  :)  As I muddle through this thing called motherhood, I realize how hard it can be, how much it changes you, and now I finally get "it."  I get how much my own mother loves me, yet it took becoming a mom myself to truly see the world through her eyes.

So for Mother's Day (a little late), I have a few things I'm sorry for.  I'm sorry: 

1.  That I was such a picky eater.  Planning meals for picky children isn't fun.  This must be something that my mom takes great delight in seeing.  I know someday I'll hope the same fate on Sassy.  :) It's EXHAUSTING.  We don't cook any alternatives for our kids (they have what we make) but it's never a good sign when on Monday (we usually cook at the beginning of the week and plan on several nights of leftovers), Sassy says, "How many nights do we have to eat this?"  Oh honey, this is Night #1.  Gonna be a long week.  We have some recipes R and I LOVE that we don't even attempt anymore.  Then we find new ones that we think will be a hit only to hear complaining and whining and "I don't want any dessert tonight anyway."  I have no clue how my mom survived cooking for all of us.  I think she must have had some booze hidden in a cabinet behind the food that none of us would eat.  

2.  That you probably gave up way more than I'll ever know to give us what we wanted.  And not just food and clothes (though that alone amazes me--who can feed and clothe a brood like ours?)  My mom had kids at home for 30 years.  30 YEARS.  In that time, she chauffeured us everywhere.  We did sports, band, 4-H, FFA, summer ball, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts (?), speech and drama, summer jobs.  Could we afford musical instruments?  Probably not.  Did she enjoy shuffling everyone around all the time?  I doubt it.  Did she ever tell us "no?"  No.  A few weeks ago, I had to get Sassy to a softball game and KeKe to a end-of-year daycare program.  At the SAME time.  And I was pulling my hair out trying to juggle it and figure out where to be.  And then I thought of Mom.  Who no doubt did it all the time without a minute to herself. 

3.  That I fought with my siblings.  I just threatened to send my children to summer school yesterday because of the fighting.  I can't imagine that it will get better with two teenage girls.  But again, that's just TWO.  I know that I didn't fight much with my sisters because they were so much younger (of course, they'd probably beg to differ!) but my brothers and I had more than our share of throw-downs.  And looking back, I can't believe Mom let us all live.  Maybe she just escaped to the kitchen and "cooked" with her stash in the cabinet. . .

4.  That I produced dirty laundry.  Yes, I know there's nothing to do about this, but again, I have no clue how you kept up with laundry.  Sassy has softball games on Tuesdays and Fridays.  There are several days in between to get her uniform washed.  And it's not like we have surprise games.  We have a schedule.  I know when the next game is.  And yet, more than once, it's been midnight the night before a game when I realize it's not clean, and these thoughts have crossed my mind:  "She doesn't stink yet.  How dirty can it be?"  But somehow she has grass stains or dirty knees, and it's to the wash we go.  I've been up many a night at an insane hour thinking of my mom and saying a little prayer of gratitude for all she did.  And wondering how she always got stains out. . .           

5.  That I didn't always appreciate what you did.  A few weekends ago, in the heat of the moment, Sassy declared, "She (that would be me) NEVER lets me do anything fun!"  Ouch.  It hurt.  And made me crazy mad.  I drive all over the country for softball because I can't figure out what else to do on a Friday night?  And then I stopped to wonder how many times I said something mean and hateful to my mom.  And how many times she just silently took it without lashing back.  How many times did I not appreciate all she did or break her heart with my words?  :(  R had to remind me that Sassy is a kid who just spouted off when I was being "mean."  I need to grow some thicker skin because the day may come when she thinks she hates me.  She can't possibly look through my adult eyes and realize how blessed she is.  That will come MUCH later when she's a mama and writing a blog to apologize to ME.  Hopefully at the same time, her kid is refusing to eat what she cooked for dinner and there's a dirty softball uniform somewhere. :)