My mom: What can I say? I sent you three cards already, none of which you'll receive today because you're out of the country. Again. Celebrating the freedom of being a mother to adults. Again. But maybe you'll have a chance to read this, so I'll give you a preview:
They're all hilarious, because that's the kind of daughter you raised. Which is funny to me because you're very much the kind of person who buys the card written by the guy who gets paid by the word. You're sappy, sentimental, and you made us watch Breathing Lessons on the Hallmark channel because you wanted us to be like you. Epic fail. But that's OK because my favorite thing in the world to do is laugh with you. Taking a close second to laughing at you. (I've got the Jewel CD and a pair of headphones waiting for you whenever you're ready to sing again.)
Eric's mom: I'm 100% sure I don't thank you enough for growing Eric up to be the man he is. Even when he was young and dumb and you'd clearly forgotten to teach him not to throw rocks at the girls he liked, I was impressed. And as he grew up, it was always so obvious that he had truly amazing parents. But it wasn't until I got the chance to see him be a parent that I realized just how incredible you must be at your job. Thank you for setting the example that has made all the difference in Ayana's and my world.
PS. I look forward to the day I'm not so intimidated by your greatness that I can send you one of the hilarious mother's day cards. There are just so many good ones out there...
Ayana's mom: Go get your kid out of the bathtub. She's been in there for over an hour. This is Mother's Day, not Remember When You Didn't Have a Kid Day.
Ayana's other mom: Sometimes I like to think about all the things we have in common. Is your daughter just like mine? Does she scold her babies in an uncanny impression of you? Do you love that moment when she finally falls asleep, but then poke her awake because you miss her? Does she pull your face to her face and say, "I love your face"? Does she eat nonstop? I know we're worlds apart, and the life I've created with your baby is different than the one you would have given her; but I like to think that the love is the same. The same, only better because she has it from me and from you. Thanks for loving her and thanks for letting me love her too.
Pinterest moms: Thanks for making me look bad. Really. Thanks.
All the other mothers: Here's the thing--you volunteered for hardest job of all the jobs. Except it's not a job because you don't get paid. So take all the kisses and hand drawn cards and moon rocks and half eaten sandwiches you can get, because you'd be broke without all that. And know that whether you're hitting it out of the park or you're just barely scraping by, you're amazing. You haven't quit that unpaid position and you never will. So celebrate that. You're the one who never gives up. You're the one who takes that flower pot with your kid's face on it and cherishes it. You're the one who imagines your life all the other ways, all the easier ways, and thinks Nope. This is my jam. This (the piles of laundry and the always reminding to say please and the dirty footprints on the clean window and the pancake batter in the hair and the always missing sock) is my jam.
It's your jam, ladies. Celebrate it.
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