As I have mentioned before, my parents started off parenthood a little different than most, being teenagers and admittedly not ready to be a mother and a father. They struggled through it, making the most of what they had and working hard to fill in the spaces of a life that they wanted me to consider to be “good.” Even though I was, from what I have heard, a good child, no one would choose to juggle college classes, a job, a toddler and a rocky marriage. But they did. They didn’t just endure through it, they chose it.
My dad and I have a special relationship, a friendship that is only in the beginning stages, after a rough reconciliation and acknowledgement of our mistakes throughout our lives. There is no need to share details, as all you need to know is that I have the best Dad a girl could ask for.
Now, my mom, she is the champion. She is the one that carried me from the beginning, not giving up on her child, staring doubt right in the face and saying no. She is the one that endured sickness and tears during pregnancy, while the world around her probably seemed to be spiraling out of control. She is the one who force-fed me vegetables, dried my tears and worked so hard to understand and love such a tremendously emotional child. She is the one who took care of me while I had to stay home sick with yet another stomach ache, even with 2 toddlers running around her feet and all over the house. She is the one that told me I could do anything that I set my mind to, even if it was followed by her sage advice on what decision to make.
As I enter into motherhood a bit differently than others as well, it is to my mother that I will look for an example, for a model in loving my little girls. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.