I spent one Friday evening at the mall, surrounded by little children. One kid in particular whom I share my genes with. My daughter. My baby. My wild child.
I watched all of them (In a non creeper way) and I watched their parents watching them. (Ok, that was pretty weird) Some parents were cautiously guarding their kids making sure that no bigger kids would push over their kids. Other parents were on their phones probably catching up on family drama on Facebook. And then there were the parents that were literally playing with their children in the little jungle gym. I was in awe of the freedom these kids had while running and sliding down the mini slide. It reminded me so much of my childhood and how I wish I could go back. The screaming and the laughing brought me back to reality to find my daughter sliding down upside down on the slide.
Yup, she is definitely mine. I began thinking and wondering if she was happy to call me her mother and if she felt truly proud of me. (She only tells me she’s proud of me when she knows I’m giving her what she wants) I also thought about her whole childhood and everything we’ve been through together. And at one point I was in disbelief I was a mother. (All though I’d been doing this for seven years now) I felt myself in pure bliss of that title. A mother.
Getting pregnant at 19 wasn’t an easy thing but I’m happy it happened. She happened. And all though I’m considered a statistic at this point I love this small human being with all my might. She is wild, she is very loud, she is talkative and she is AJ. She is the definition of happy.
The moment I found out about her I freaked. I was 19! I had only survived about six semesters of college and had been with her father for only four months. My mom was upset but extremely happy to be a grandmother in her 40s. And my father didn’t speak to me all throughout the whole pregnancy AND I LIVED WITH THEM. He ignored me all the time that I would forget he was even living there. But don’t worry we’re cool now and he shows my daughter so much more love than he showed my sister and I COMBINED!
Don’t get me wrong. I love my child so much but I always think what I would’ve accomplished and where I would be if I wasn’t a mother. I kick myself every now and then when I reflect on my life and everything I’ve been doing. My sweet girl remains the wild child of herself now in 1st grade. She is the person I think of when failure ambushes my life. Just having turned seven a couple weeks back It hits me. I am responsible for molding this person, this tiny person who calls me mom into a strong independent woman one day. I may lose my mind and my patience in the process but I do it for her. I do it for her to not rely on anyone but herself when she’s older. And I really hope she sees that when she’s an adult. That even though I had her young I had sacrificed a lot to make her the person she will be.
Sometimes life between us isn’t always gummy bears and rainbows. I’m stern, I’m strict and I’m mean when it comes to chores, homework and manners. She has already told me she hates me and she cries when she doesn’t get her way. (The cruel way the world sometimes does to me) At the moment I am not her friend I am her mother but hopefully she sees me as both later on when she can understand.
You see I am the bad cop between her father and I. We separated when she was only two. I don’t think she truly understood what was going on but she did see that mommy and daddy weren’t living together anymore. Still to this day she has trouble remembering what day she gets to go with her dad. It’s hard. But one thing is, she is loved. She is loved by so many people and now has siblings from her father’s side and a step mother and step father. Separation was meant to happen. She was meant to have this life for a reason and she will grow stronger because of it.
She is intelligent but sometimes lazy like her mother. She is sarcastic and sassy and oh so filled of joy and energy! She is mine. I hope I’m doing a great job at being a mother because none of this comes in a manual when you push them out. There is stress, there are tears, there is anger but the love I have for her overrules everything every time.
When people say that as a parent you pay for the hell that you put your parents through with your own children they (whom ever they are) did NOT lie. I will gladly accept my ticket to this heavy rollercoaster called life with my daughter and the ones to come.
Take this time to thank your parents and tell them you love them.
What is one thing you remember your parents did for you as a child?