When you become a mom, you acquire this 20-20 hindsight that makes you both grateful, but left wanting to cringe.
You see, the gratuity comes at 3 am, when you’re completely exasperated with your own child and think “My God, I’m alive, standing here right now, which means my mother must have done this for me night after night. Bless her.” The cringes come every time your kid hits you, doesn’t want to be around you, or generally just embarrasses you.
In the words of my confessor, “Every parent wants to give up at some point– but, you’re here, no one threw you out a window when you were a baby, so there’s hope.”
I imagine that’s what parenthood will continue to be for me, a rollercoaster of pride and humiliation, affection and anger, having the best job in the world and the worst job in the world. Overall, we remember the positives — much like our memories of childbirth itself, we remember that moment of awe upon first holding our children, instead of the hours of pain that proceeded it.
So thanks mom, for letting me put you through the ringer, and know that what ever “payback” you wished upon me on those low days, I’m being paid-back in spades; but I also get paid back in love kisses, and appreciation for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for every diaper you changed, and every cuddle you gave me. I’m sorry the thanks is a little late, but hopefully, not too late.
I love you.