The 5 Words I Want To Say To My Mom

This time of year, there are lots of words said about moms. There are flowery and funny and touching cards to moms, mothers-in-law, wives. There are blogs about what it means to be a mom, essays about why we love being a mom, and passive-aggressive rants about how hard it is to be a mom. There are television commercials, magazine ads and mail-order catalogs telling us what moms “really” want for Mother’s Day.

Despite the abundance of words thrown about regarding moms this time of year, sometimes all it takes is a few simple and heartfelt words to speak volumes. Which is why, this Mother’s Day, I have only five words that I’d like to say to my mom. Five words that I think every parent wants to hear:

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For the deliriously painful labor and delivery you endured to bring me into this world.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For holding me and rocking me and rubbing my back every night for years because I was what they like to call a “challenging” baby.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For dealing with my numerous tantrums and high-maintenance demands because I was what they like to call a “difficult” child.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For coming to school countless times during my first year of school to wipe my tears, even though you had a newborn and a toddler at home and were desperate for just a few hours with one less child around.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For managing every single sibling fight with patience and grace.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For surviving every single trip to the grocery store with three whiny kids in tow, begging for sugary cereal and candy bars.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For surviving years upon years of sleep deprivation, whether due to pregnancy discomforts, erratic newborn feeding schedules, toddler nightmares, school-age sleepovers or teenage curfew extensions.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For giving up entire weekends to sit by a hot, sweaty, stinky swimming pool to watch me compete. For 12 long years.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For opening your house and refrigerator to countless troops of neighborhood friends.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For taking care of me whenever I was sick, especially that time that I vomited in a towel on the snorkeling boat and then proceeded to drop said towel with said vomit all over your legs.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For dealing with my teenage drama over friends, boys, clothes, hair, school and just about everything.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For sacrificing your own hopes and dreams to help make the hopes and dreams of your children possible.

Thank you, and I’m sorry.

For waiting all these years to hear me say that I love you beyond measure, admire you beyond comparison, and appreciate you beyond words (especially these five simple words).

Thank you. And I’m sorry.

Related post: To the Unwashed Masses of Mothers