Happy Mother's Day, be you a mother or not. Actually, I doubt that any Mothers read this.
Anyway, I didn't do anything for it. I gave my Mom plenty of warning that I wouldn't be doing anything. But I still feel a bit guilty, I think. Well, I did say Happy Mother's Day, but no presents, no cards, no breakfasts in bed.
It's not that I don't love my Mother. But Mother's day seems a bit commercial. A bit of a here's-a-day-to-love-your-Mom. Because you shouldn't have to do it more then once a year, right? And remember, we have the best flowers in town!
Mom says I'm boycotting it. She doesn't seem to mind. But, yeah, it might bug her a bit. So, for lack of doing anything better here's a reflection on my Mom.
You raised me the best you knew how. Rules I didn't always agree with, and spankings. I hate to admit it now, but you were probably right lots of the time. You homeschooled me. Thanks Mom, that's huge. I understand you put countless hours into that. You trusted me, and let go of me when she had to. Decisions are important. And although your advice is always there you recognize which ones should be mine. I once told you I hated you, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. When I was little you hugged me when I cried and when I was big you told me I could, even if I didn't listen. You tried to smooth things out when they got rough. You tried to make me into a lady, tried to show me that change has to happen, tried to talk. But in the end I had to learn lessons my own way, and you let me be who I am.
My Mom isn't perfect. I would probably be much more inspired on an anti-Mothers-day, but I'm certainly not a perfect teen, and that's probably why. I'm the Christian rebel. I'm the stubborn daughter. I'm the wild child with morals. It's made some of my life hard. It's caused problems. It's probably not worth it. But I don't give up.
I remember being twelve and wanting a Mother that was a friend. One that planned sleep-overs for the two of us in a hay loft and one that I can tell everything. My Mom isn't that, and I guess she shouldn't be, couldn't be, isn't meant to be. And I'm not the daughter that would click with that now. Maybe it's the way I grew, maybe it's just who I am. I've said it before, I wouldn't tell my parents everything.
1. I wouldn't want them to know.
2. They wouldn't understand.
We all have Moms. Be it Mama, Mother, Ma, Mom, or even one that we haven't met or never knew. Mine loved me even when I didn't cooperate. I guess that's something to be thankful for. And I guess I should let her know that.