Why the hell didn’t you warn me. Or at least tell me how hard it was going to be raising these little guys? You had 4 of us, what the hell were you thinking?! How did you do it? How did you get up every damn day, and do it? You are just the most amazing woman on the planet, and now…that I’m forty-one, and all grown up, and I look back at my childhood, I can not believe you had the strength.
But I was the best kid ever. ;)
I was sweet, and smart. And cute. I never screamed or yelled. I never swore. Shit. If I said “shut up” I surely got soap in my mouth. I cleared the table at 10 years old…I made my bed, I watched my little brothers, and I even had manners. Good god, I was a fucking angel. I had respect. I wasn’t mouthy, or nasty. I never talked back, or looked at my dad the wrong way. I never rolled my eyes. Dang, I never even dared to leave a towel on the bathroom floor. No, not me! I got good grades, and I was smiley, and bubbly…and I was happy. Little Susie Sunshine.
My kids are from hell. They can’t stand to hear the word “no”. Bratty I tell ya. Spoiled. And entitled. I want to slap ’em. (this is where I can hear my mom saying “OMG, Jennifer, how can you talk about MY grand babies like that! They are perfection!”) Such a Grandma. ;)
Mom, you know I was your favorite. I won’t tell anyone. It’s between you and me. You loved me the most. Until I went to college, and I became a holy terror, and it all went to shit. I was a “druggy” and I verbally abused you, and tried to smoke pot in your bathroom…but come on, you love the bandannas and wool sweaters. I was a nightmare, but I loved you. And you held your ground when I tried to choke the nurse my freshman year, when she said I had gained a “few pounds”. Mom, there is no one better at being a mom than you. I watched you raise all of us. The four craziest, wildest, most dynamically different kids on the block…and you did it with ease. And patience. With grace, and love. I wanted to be a mom since I could remember. I wanted to grow up, and be just like you. You gave us your everything, and sacrificed your happiness for ours…which some would say is a bad thing, but not me. It’s what being a mother is all about. Putting your children before yourself. And I wouldn’t do it any other way. There just is no other way.
I can remember when I got pregnant with Jonah, and I called you…and I said, “Mommy, we are having our first baby.” lol. And I swear, I meant it. Maybe Mark wasn’t so thrilled when you moved in our house for the first 6 weeks, but I couldn’t have done it without you. And secretly, neither could he. Mark could sleep, and we would sit with that white dry-erase board and record every time I nursed Jonah. And the boob we started with, and how much time. OMG. I was a frickin’ nut job. How did I ever survive that first year? Or the second. Ok, how did I survive Jonah? I couldn’t have raised my boys without you, Mom. Wow. I don’t think, I could be where I am today without you, or Julie.
So, sitting here….tonight, with my broken finger, alone in my house…I’m sad. And lonely. I miss you, and Jules. My first Mother’s Day as a single mom. This divorce has brought on a lot of those. “Firsts”. First dates. First holidays. First time sleeping alone. First kisses. This will be my first Mother’s Day as a MOM and not as a Wife. Weird. And I’m really okay. I’m ok celebrating with the boys. But I did buy them presents. Not for me, no. I bought them stuff. To celebrate our first Mother’s Day together. A new tradition, to say thank you to them for making me a mom. After all, isn’t that what Mother’s Day is all about? I wouldn’t be a mom, if it wasn’t for them.
Happy Mother’s Day to MY Mom, Trish Hurvitz. I love you to the moon and stars…and back again. Thank you for teaching me how to be the best mother I can be. How to love my babies, and treat them with respect. How to cherish them, and remember they are people, too. And how to make memories out of the little things, and silliest moments. And to my sister, Julie Chernow. You are my rock, and the smartest woman I have ever known. I will look up to you forever. Thank you for being so patient with me. I know, it’s been a hard year…you have been so good to me, and my boys.