To my Children on Mother's Day

I can't thank you enough for being given the privilege of being your Mom.
And I can't apologize enough for the things I did wrong.

Our life is crazy and wild. And I wouldn't trade a minute of it.
Even the minutes that made us hurt, because those are the ones that made us stronger.
Those are the ones that let me, as your mother, wrap you in my love, and kiss away boo-boos and tell you everything would be ok. Even when I wasn't sure it would.

Cause that's what Moms do.
Or at least that's what I've figured out over the last 16 years of being a Mom.

Because there was no handbook that came with any of you.
Sure, there were plenty of Dr Spock books, and "What to Expect...." books and other experts ready to tell me when to feed you, when to change your diaper, when to put you to sleep and when to wake you up. What car seat, stroller, high chair, bathtub, thermometer, brand of diapers, wipes and formula were the best for you. When and how to potty train you. How to "baby proof" the house.

I bought a few of those books. And I read a few pages of them.

And then I realized, through common sense and a lot of advice from my Moms and Grandmas and aunts and sisters and friends that you will cry when you are hungry or need changed. And when those basic needs are met if you keep crying it's perfectly ok to put you in your bed and let you exercise your lungs for a little while longer.
And if I put you to bed too early-you would be up even earlier. So if I put you to bed later, I would actually get a long stretch of good sleep. And those nights that you did wake up, it was the most magical time to sit and rock you back to sleep, just you and I.
And to never, never, ever wake a sleeping baby. EVER.
As far as car seats, strollers, and all that stuff goes, breaking the bank or taking out a small loan to buy the most expensive, top-of-the-line brand didn't make you any happier or better baby. That brand comparison stuff comes a little later-and lasts a lot longer-and that there are mean kids out there who will judge you by your brands. Toddlers don't pass judgement on whether you are in a Britax car seat or a Graco one. Just the Moms did, and it's easier for me to walk away from those people than it would be for you growing up.
As far as potty training goes, they don't tell you boys are much harder than girls, and that at some point I would be throwing Bob the Builder underwear away in the McDonalds bathroom because I thought taking you to the play place for lunch in your big boy underwear would be the breakthrough in potty training. And I forgot to pack a diaper, a clean pair of underwear or a plastic baggie.
That "baby proofing" the house really meant putting everything I ever liked, and wanted to keep, away until you were, say, about 10. And that I wasn't going to do that. I wasn't going to decorate the top half of the Christmas tree only, or cover every outlet so that when I needed one, I had to pry the cover off and break a nail in the process. I was going to teach you which items are yours and ok to touch and which are not. And if you happened to shock yourself trying to plug your Christmas tree lights in, you would only do that once.
Those books don't tell you that your baby will roll off the bed, or changing table because you turned your back for one second. And that they will be fine after all their tears, and mine.

It wasn't one of those books I referenced when I didn't know how high I could let your temperature get before I needed to worry. Or how much Tylenol was ok to give. Or what was the best way to relieve a colicky baby or constipated baby. Or if that cough sounded like a barking seal-and how to help. It was my Mom. Or My sister or Aunt. Another Mother.

And I messed up. A lot.
I forgot it was 'dress like your favorite book character' day at school and had to come up with a last minute make-shift costume at midnight.
I sent store bought cookies when homemade ones were still allowed.
I wasn't a PTA mom or a classroom volunteer Mom, or a bus-stop Mom.
I threw away most of the artwork/schoolwork you brought home-just saving my favorites instead of packing them away.
I was so tired and broke that one night after work I let you pick out your dinner at the Conoco Gas station around the corner from our house, so I didn't have to cook anything and could use the gas charge card. I did make sure you at least got a sandwich made on whole wheat and milk to drink along with your chips and cookies.
I was late picking you up from school because I was 8 months pregnant and had been taking a nap and I showed up at school in my pajamas with bed head.
I let you eat crappy cafeteria food for dinner every night while your brother was in the hospital.
I kept you out too late at night and let you miss naps.
I let your feeding pump go off for hours after it was done because I was so tired I fell asleep,and never heard it.
I forgot to give you your medicine. On time. Every day.
I didn't make it to every practice, game, concert, choir performance, awards ceremony or class party.
I yelled and lost my temper. And yelled some more.

I hope you realize that those events I missed while at work I hated to miss, and made sure your Dad or another family member was there standing in for me.
I hope you realize my absence was because I was at work, earning money to feed and clothe and house you.
That feeding you from a gas station is never as bad as not feeding you at all.
That I would rather sit at home and watch movies with all of you in my bed than go out with my friends.
That every time I attend a game or meet or concert or any event you are in that I cry. I cry tears of pure pride and joy.
That when you aren't home with me, I worry about where you are and who you are with.
I worry if I taught you right from wrong and that you make the right decision. Or if you aren't sure, that you are never afraid to ask me.
That I wish I could protect you from mean words and hateful people, but that I can't stop what other people will say or do. I can only hope I have taught you better than to do that to others.
That your heart will never be broken, but when it is, I want you to know you can cry on my shoulder, in my arms, no matter how old you are.
I wish I could shield you from sick siblings with life threatening illnesses and multiple surgeries, and a Mom with cancer, but know that it was your love and sweet faces that helped me get through those tough times.
That being the bigger person and saying your sorry doesn't make you weak. But that sometimes some people don't even deserve that.
That I've taught you who to walk away from, and who to keep in your life.
That I've taught you to stand up and defend those who can't defend themselves.
I hope that through all the mistakes I've made, that you never question my love for you.
That we are all human. None of us are perfect.
That I never wanted you to be the prettiest, smartest, most athletic.
I want you to do your best with what you were given and to be kind and compassionate.
To always be the nice kid. Never the mean one.
That the time I spend with you means more to me than the things I can give you.
And I know we won't always have that time, or that you won't want to spend it with me. And that's ok too, because Mommies need a break every now and then also.
I hope that I have lead by example, but that you take with you the lessons I learned from my mistakes too.

I hope you someday have kids as wonderful as yourselves, and know that along the way mistakes will be made. And it will all be ok. And I will always be there for you when you're not sure.

Happy Mother's Day to all the influential Mothers in my life, because you are who made me the Mother I am today.
To all my Sisters, Cousins, Aunts, Friends and those Mothers I've never met in person but share common bonds with-I hope your day was as fabulous as you are. Because you deserve it.

*yes-I'm in my Pjs on Mothers Day in this pic. Why? Cause I can be. Welcome to our crazy life.