I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life, relationships, and family. As Jacob prepares to graduate from high school and go to college, I cannot help but find my mind drifting back to when I was his age, going through a similar process. I was consumed with the flurry of events happening during this time, and my relationship with you and Dad, while important, was not my priority.
Throughout college and afterwards, you were always there for me, just like before. Some days I was kind. Other days, I was not. Through it all, you never gave up, you never cast me aside, and you never ever stopped supporting me or being my #1 fan.
And now, as a mother, I understand. I understand that you were there for me because that’s what you do for your children. Period.
What I’ve realized is that you have taught me how to be a good mother. You have taught me how to be patient, because YOU showed me patience. You have taught me how to be a communicator, because you pretty much define endless, relentless communication. You have taught me how to love, because you have shown me love. You have taught me how to relax and not sweat the small stuff & how to brush off my knees when I faceplant and get back to the task at hand. You have given me a reason to be optimistic, because although you do worry a lot about a lot of things, at your core, you are a happy, optimistic person. You have taught me how to be generous because you are the most generous person I know. You have given me the tools I needed to raise Jacob, Sammy and Emmy, and for that, I am forever grateful.
You allowed me to pursue baking when I’m guessing a more ‘traditional job’ would have made you feel better, and look at what has happened.
I think of my children and where their futures will take them, and I am overwhelmed by the possibilities. My role is changing, and while it’s a natural evolution, there are moments when I wonder whether I’ll be able to navigate this shift with grace. Part of me still wants to grab Emmy’s hand when we cross the street together, and I will never ever be able to drive with the kids without shooting out my right arm across the front seat passenger’s chest ‘protecting’ them when we come to a sudden stop.
When I worry about these transitions, I find peace thinking of you, because you have walked this road ahead of me and have shown me the way.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom…may it be filled with love.