To the little girl who calls me mother,
I wanted to write you a letter this Mother’s Day because you are the reason I am being celebrated for my MILF status (I threw in the MILF part).
You are only 4 years old but at 4, you blow me away.
Before you came, my life was like any typical college kid my age. The world was my oyster and my five year plan was as solid as a brick wall. You were a factor that I had never considered.
Doing my typical college thing
When I found out about you, I was only 20, still a baby myself in many ways. Like the fact that I still didn’t know how to wash a load of laundry without shrinking everything in it.
Two weeks before I took that pregnancy test, I competed in a college Beer Olympics with your dad. I must have drank between 12-15 beers, chugging them as fast as I could. Sorry about that. Your little peanut fetus must have had as much of a hangover as I did. However, your dad and I won the Olympics so that trophy you stare at on the wall was well worth it.
Dad was super excited with his winning Russian hat.
Then there was that time when I was about 7 months pregnant and turned 21. Instead of getting wasted on my birthday, I got loaded on raw-free sushi. No complaints here, I’m sure you were just as happy as I was that night.
That same week my doctor said I could have a glass of red wine, my first drink of alcohol since the Beer Olympics. I ordered a red sangria…I thought it was red wine with fruit. Sometimes young mothers are stupid. Halfway through that sangria I realized that it was filled with more than just red wine. Between the slight buzz and the angry looks from other people in that restaurant, I should have noticed sooner. My bad.
This explains everything
When you were born, you were not the cutest newborn. You were purple and had a slight resemblance to the asian gas station attendant down the street. I’m sure your dad was a bit concerned but didn’t say a word.
Do you see what I’m saying?
As you filled out and got your chubby baby rolls, you became the prettiest little thing I had ever seen. You had bright blue eyes like your dad, my smile and your own unique laugh that was contagious. You should have been the poster baby for GAP, you made Prince George look like a pile of elephant shit.
Can’t handle the adorableness…Neither could GAP
Heart Melted.
When you were about 8 months old I brought you shopping with a friend…a non-baby-experienced, friend. She took you into a dressing room while I finished getting my hair done and sat you on a dressing room table. Of course you fell off and bumped your head. She brought you back to me wailing, your head looked like Worf from Star Trek.
That was a bad day for you.
I felt terrible, probably not as terrible as my friend but that was the first time I questioned if I was good mother. The minute I coddled you in my arms and kissed your boo-boo, you calmed down and smiled letting me it was ok. I left with my hair half done, but I didn’t have to pay for it so it worked out. Needless to say, my friend will not be allowed to take you shopping until you are at least 10.
By 2 years old, you mastered the art of a taking a selfie before it was even an art to master. You would take my IPhone and snap pictures of yourself for me to find. You don’t know this but your secret selfies got me through Monday mornings.
Awesome in a selfie
At 3 years old, you were more mature and smarter than most kids your age. You are an old soul. I know this because you asked me one day to stop calling you a baby. You said, “I am 3 years old and should be called a little young girl“. It broke my heart a little bit but it was a fair request. Or that time you wanted to use your Chuckie E Cheese money to buy a Dora doll. You insisted on using your own money to buy what you wanted. At 3, you already were an independent “little young girl.” Beyonce would be proud.
Independent women don’t give a F*$#! in Crayola Factory
Now at 4 years old you continue to amaze me. When we went camping and a wild animal ate all your marsh mellows, I did my best to keep you calm by explaining that we would get you more. You simply looked at me and said, “Fuck it, whatever. It’s no big deal”. I should have scolded you for using profanity or put you in time out but I was so impressed you used it in the right context that I couldn’t. All I had to do was explain that “Fuck” is an adult word and should be used by adults. You now you reprimand me for using it and say, “12 year old girls shouldn’t use that word.” I hope you think I’m still 12 in a couple of years.
“Mom!”
I love when you make me laugh uncontrollably, which happens often. Especially that time we went for a 5 minute walk and you told me your boobs hurt from walking so much. You told me you wanted to lay down so you could rest your boobs from such a strenuous hike.
After two years, Dad and I finally found the secret to keeping you a clean kid. Who would of known the detachable shower head would be the trick to get you to bathe more than 2x a week. My outlook for your hygiene is now bright.
The god of all clean children
As you get older, you are turning into a little me. I worry about your dad’s sanity. Having two of me in one house might be a bit much for him. We may not find most of his jokes funny, but he is crazy about us. You will find out soon enough that he is wrapped around your finger and always will be. Give him a break every now and again, he tries his best to keep up with your mile-a-minute stories. And I know his dreams of you becoming the first female NFL player are excessive, especially when he times your 50meter sprints in the driveway. He means well. I will do my best to keep him at bay but wearing his favorite team’s football jersey on Sunday is out of my realm, nothing I can do about that.
I got nothing to do with this.
I often wonder why you chose me to be your mom and am so incredibly grateful that you did. I will never be the perfect mother and you will never be the perfect child but you are certainly perfect for me. One special thing we will always be able to share is that we are growing up together. The bond you and I have will never be duplicated by any future siblings you may have one day, it’s only for you and I .
I can’t wait to see what great things you will do. You will fail and you will make mistakes in life and me and your dad will fail and make mistakes but we will always love you unconditionally.
I promise that I will always be honest with you and tell you like it is. I promise that I will always do my best as your mother. I promise that you will not like every decision I make for you or that I will like every decision you make for yourself. All I ask is that you promise me to do what makes you happy and that will always make me happy.
On this Mother’s Day I’m not thankful to be a mother, I’m thankful to be YOUR mother. I wouldn’t replace you with any kid out there because for me, you are the most perfect “little young girl” I could ever ask for.
Love,
Mom
