I just want to tell you, Mom, since it’s Mother’s Day and all, that I’m sorry, you were right, and thank you.
First, I’m really, really sorry.
I know I apologize to you a few times a year for being rude, or for drinking too much at our cousin’s wedding, or for leaving my shoes on the stairs at your house AGAIN.
But this time, I’m saying “I’m sorry” because I’m a parent now, and I realize just how challenging I was as a child.
I know you were hoping I’d be the delicate little girl our extended family had been waiting for after four very rough-and-tumble boys.
That didn’t pan out at all, did it?
Instead, you got a mouthy, stubborn little chica determined to break every rule and, yes, I suppose I really did want to see you pull all your hair out.
I’m sorry that I didn’t ever get my room “so clean Jesus could eat off the floor.”
I’m sorry that I snuck out of the house – a lot – so my high school boyfriend and I could ride around in his car for hours.
I’m sorry I insisted on driving to work with a dislocated elbow despite you telling me it was dangerous, and I’m even sorrier that I did, indeed, wreck the car on that very trip.
I think I’m most sorry that it took me so long to realize that you are nearly always right.
You were right about most of those boys I dated.
You were right that I wouldn’t be happy if I counted calories.
You were right that you would have been happier if I would have just given you a little peace and quiet.
I get it now. I get why you were strict about me being home on curfew. I get why you pushed me to do well in school.
You were right when you said that one day, I’d thank you for the rules.
Thank you for always making me eat my vegetables; I now love them.
Thank you for teaching me to accept – and appreciate – other people regardless of their background or beliefs.
Thank you for planning every detail of my wedding, because you knew that I was too upset about the miscarriage to try to make a decision about the menu, or the cake, or the music, or the dress.
Thank you for being at every soccer game and for cheering louder than anyone else as I raced down the field, and for letting me cry on the way home when I didn’t play well.
Thank you for packing my lunch every day, even though I didn’t get Doritos like the other kids. I loved my salami-and-mustard-on-white with string cheese.
Thank you for raising me the way I hope to raise my child: to be a respectful, responsible adult who puts family first, serves their community and knows that it’s OK to enjoy chocolate once in a while.
Mom, I’m sorry it has taken me so long to tell you that you were right, and thank you for understanding that it took becoming a momma to get to this place.
I love you. Happy Mother’s Day.
P.S. You’ll be getting your gift tomorrow instead of Sunday. You asked me not to “spend so much money” on your gifts, so I got a better deal by having your gift delivered on a Friday. I’m sorry you won’t get anything from me on Sunday; you were right, I should try to save my money, and thank you for being just as thrilled when you get your surprise tomorrow as you would have been on Sunday.