It’s me, an unelected representative of all the kids who don’t call enough, visit enough, text enough or take enough precautions when walking home alone at night. I hope you’re doing well and not currently looking for coupons for foods that I like to eat — I’ve mentioned time and again that I honestly love anything you make, and when I visit for the weekend, there’s too little time for all the food you always have prepared. I wanted to tell you, on behalf of all the kids who visit home once a month, eat two plates of food, sleep for 14 hours and then leave within a half-day because the weekend mysteriously vanished, that we love you and cherish you, and we love you just as much when it’s not Mother’s Day.
See, it used to be annoying when you used to fuss over us, and we’d pray that you’d just leave us alone because we wanted to be so very independent — now, you should be wary of fussing over us too much, because the option of just moving home and spending all our time being fussed over is proving too tempting to resist by the day. The world is a strange place that is punishing and forgiving in the most unexpected ways, and it baffles us that you bore with it all and protected us from its inscrutable intentions for so long. How did you make do on days when you didn’t feel good about yourself; how did you just carry on with things and find time for us, when I can barely handle doing the laundry and the cooking in the same day without turning to a half-bottle of wine? Things get more and more complicated the older we get, but you’ve never stopped doing your best for us, and we want to be just like you.
You worry far too much, but are the first to tell us to calm down the minute we worry, which makes your tiny hypocrisy both maddening and profoundly moving. We’ll never thank you enough for that. You need to stop sending us unfounded news reports from uncredited sources about miracle superfoods or gunshots heard two neighbourhoods away from our own, because if you’re talking about that, we don’t get to ask you how you are or what’s been on your mind lately. Also, you also need to spend more money on yourself, Mom(s)!!! Every time you ask if we’re doing well by way of dollar signs, we wish you’d lavish a little more on yourself because nobody in the family deserves it the way you do. We’re doing fine with money, really — we’ll tell you if there’s a real problem, but if there isn’t, you need to pamper yourself before us. Stop saving the best cuts of the meal for us, and start digging in yourself; the older we get, the harder it is to accept that there’s anyone at the table that deserves a better plate than the one that’s filling ours.
You drive us crazy, because you’ve finally taught us to worry about you just like you worry about us. All the fussing, nagging and general putting-us-before-you has created a debt so cavernous that now it’s fun to fuss after you as well, to get annoyed at you for putting us before you yet again. You deserve special treatment and the things you like every single day of the year, not just on Mother’s Day, but we’re still trying to put ourselves together right now, and I hope you don’t mind waiting just a teensy bit more till we’re ready to pamper you fully. We nag at other people the way you used to nag at us now. Some days, we say something and immediately think of how much like you we just sounded, and how crazy that is that we’re turning into our mothers. It’s an odd feeling to get used to, but once you’re more familiar with it, it’s kinda cool — it’s not embarrassment or sheepishness, but a distinct sense of pride.
You might be crazy, but, on behalf of all of us that you’ve also driven crazy, I’d rather be crazy like you than like anyone else in the world. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom(s). You are divine.