Dear Mama,
I didn’t sign up for this. Nope…not at…all.
You know what I’m talking about—–the boogers in the bed + the turds in the tub (sorry mom, I know you appreciate some good alliteration). Or in YOUR case, the napkins on fire + the cats in the dryer (keep reading if you care to learn more about these two iconic memories of my childhood).
Or what about the exhaustion… and the always feeling like I’m forgetting something…or actually the often forgetting of the somethings. Or the “what do I cook for dinner tonight?” question that creeps up every.single.day. or the rewashing the laundry 5 different times because I let it sour five different times because I spent all day trying to put up a baby gate that won’t work. Or the never, ever, ever getting uninterrupted sleep.  Or the craving of just 5 minutes alone where I can sort out my thoughts and to-do lists with no distractions or hearing anyone say “can I have another snack” for the millionth time. Or the constant worrying about if my kids are going to “turn out OK” (not even sure what “OK” means but I do worry about it!) or worrying if they are  “smart enough”, “happy enough”, “emotional enough but not too emotional” enough.
What. In. The. World?!?! Why the heck didn’t you warn me about how hard being a mama was going to be? I really could have used a head’s up.
I mean, I remember a few times you mumbling something under your breath (usually in the heat of breaking up a sisters argument) like “I sure do hope I’m around to see you all be parents” but if I’m being honest, that was not a fair warning.
Nope…I definitely didn’t sign up for this. 
But then again, neither did you huh?
You didn’t sign up for all of the whining from your middle child. (ahh so sorry!) You didn’t sign up for the the numerous nights of homecooked meals where your people sat around the table and chatted about their days and then left YOU with the dishes (OMG FORGIVE ME!!!!). I’m certain you didn’t sign up for your peopele absolutely destroying your attempt to have a beautiful candle-lit dinner for us by lighting your gorgeous cloth napkins on fire in the candles when you left the dining room to go retrieve the casseroles you’d spent all day making.  I’m also certain you never would have signed up for the multiple nights for multiple years of “can I please sleep in your bed because I can’t find the tally-po spray and I’m freaking out in my room? (Also, I will be dedicating a future post to why you should never read your kids scary fictional stories unless you want them or you to never ever have a peaceful nights rest again). You definitely didn’t sign up for the harsh words your 2nd grade daughter said to you when you broke the news to her that you accidentally dried a load of laundry not realizing her cat had crawled in there to take a nap (R.I.P GRAY-to your defense she was an outside cat).
You didn’t sign up for the running around of 3 girls, barely 3 years apart to 3 different team practices after you stood on your feet teaching 100+ elementary age kids PE that day in a loud gym with no air conditioning. You didn’t sign up for shuffling your 3 girls to 3 different limo rides for prom all on the same day because God forbid they ride to prom together or make your life easier in any way.
Nope…you didn’t sign up for any of that stuff.
BUT, you know what else you didn’t sign up for (because I’m certain, when you were in the thick of all of the CRAZY HARD, CRAZY CHAOTIC, FLAT-OUT EXHAUSTING MOMMING MOMENTS, there was no way your mind could have fathomed it)—-you didn’t sign up for having a 35-year-old-daughter tearing up as she types in the middle of a busy, Nashville coffee shop as she recalls her childhood  and her mama SO DANG FONDLY. Tearing up as she wishes she could go back and help her mama with the dishes all those nights, or throw a load of laundry (cat free of course!) in the washer to help her mama out, or just put her little arms around her mama’s neck a million times a day and say “MAMA- you are the best mama in the world! This was the best dinner Ive ever had. Thank you for getting my clothes all clean and thank you for working so hard, and for helping me learn how to spell the word Pumpkin (or is it Punkin?) correctly, and Thank you Thank you Thank you for all you do. “
So mama, since I didn’t say it enough then, I will say it as often and as much as I can now, from the bottom of my heart:
THANK YOU FOR ALL YOU DO. YOU TRULY ARE THE BEST MAMA IN THE WORLD.
With that said, a head’s up really would have been nice though 🙂
Love,
Your Stubborn, Hard-headed, Middle Daughter

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