Growing up I was a pretty bad kid, but then, most of us are. I didn’t treat my mom right, though many children didn’t. It took until I moved away to realize just how badly I had treated her. It took being in a foreign place I didn’t know to realize just how much she did for me. Worst of all, it took me until I had children to truly realize just how much she often sacrificed for us kids.
My mom was one of those amazing parents that always welcomed other kids into the house with open arms, so long as they were polite and respectful. She often had snacks for my sister and I, plenty enough that if there were other kids in the area who didn’t have an after school snack that we could share and not be hungry. She did her best with what she had, often playing with us even though she was exhausted from work. The love she had for us, I never really understood until I had my own.
Often I find myself tired or exhausted from cleaning all day and chasing the kids around, but even when I feel about to collapse, I still trudge on. Their smiles give me the energy I need to continue on. Their laughter gives me the extra push to keep me going. It amazes me how much the sound of their squeals of glee can give me the energy needed to chase them around the house just one more time, or how their playful running can give me the strength to pick them up in mid run to tickle assault their tiny tummies.
In my opinion, it took far too long to realize just how much it was a inner struggle for my mom to work and still have time to play with us. Or how much energy it took to keep up with us, feed us good food, and always make sure we had clean clothing to wear to school. I find myself often too exhausted to do the laundry myself, so my husband usually drives into town and does it at the local laundry mat. Which then they sit in the baskets all nice and clean until the next weekend when we do it all over again. I never realized just how much of a job it really was, taking care of my girls, until I finally had them.
I can never say it often enough, or well enough, just how much I appreciate all that she did for me. Nor can I ever put it into words just how much my mom means to me. The best I can do is tell her every day that I’m alive that I love her.