If you know me, then you know I talk about my mom 24/7—whenever I get the chance to bring her up. Not just because I love her more than anyone, but because I appreciate everything she does for me, whether I always tell her that or not. From the start, it’s really only ever been me and her. Sure, we live with my grandparents, but I’ve always gravitated towards her. Having a kid means to make harsh sacrifices and decisions that I never truly took into account until I got older.
Looking back, I wish I’d been more affectionate towards my mommy when I was a kid, but now, I’m trying to make up for that lost time. Just the other day, she got confused when I referred to her as ‘mommy’ instead of ‘mom.’ She wasn’t angry, just wondering why I’d suddenly switched up. I told her it was my way of showing my love, and that she should probably become used to it for the foreseeable future. It’s time I made up for being such a stubborn child.
Now, I could ramble on and on for thousands of words about the woman who singehandedly raised me, but I’d rather just share the important stuff and save everything for another time. In a way, we sort of grew up with one another. That’s not to say she was super young when she had me, but perhaps not fully matured, as you’re not considered ‘mature’ until you’re twenty five. I admire the strength she had to take on the responsibility of raising a child at nineteen, especially when my father slowly started showing how unprepared he was for a baby.
I may not remember my entire childhood, but looking through memories, I know I was loved. Her best friends became my god parents, my uncles and aunts, and I was the first child of her group. I was everyone’s baby. I had plenty of toys and was always in someone’s arms. I was cared for, never wanting for anything. When he moved out with my grandmother and her husband, things changed. She no longer lived so close to her friends and had the help—only the help of two people who’d finished raising their children long ago.
I regret being the reason my mom didn’t finish college and pushed herself through grueling job after grueling job. I told her constantly that once I go to college, I want her to re-enroll, to build a life outside of me—the one she could have had had I not come along. I don’t think she regrets having me, no, she loves me and I know that. I only wish I had not been so hardheaded as a child, so eager to rebel, that she could have had an easy life. That’s what I plan to give her—to work hard and let her put up her feet, to let me take care of and love her the way she has always done to me.
Everything I do is not only for myself, but for her. I one day want her to be able to not slave over a minimum wage job, to be able to rest her aching feet for once in her life. To not have to worry about how to get groceries for the week and still have enough money left over for bills. Basically, the whole point of this rant is to talk to you all about the woman who’s always been there for me, my biggest supporter, and the most caring person I’ve ever met.
Oh my Gosh!!!! I love this and how you felt comfortable to share this about how you feel about your mother.
this was vary nice
Ahhhh, this is so true. You never realize how much they sacrific until after the fact. Also I love your mom, she is the literal sweetest.