I call up my mom at 9:30 at night. I’m heading into the city on Wednesday and I need her to watch my dog. Of course, she picks up. Mom always picks up. That’s who my mom is. She’s there.
My mom was there for me when I was only 5 years old and I cried every day during gymnastics because I couldn’t handle the stress. She gave me hugs and wiped my tears, and she reminded me to get back out there and finish practice because that is what strong women do. My mom was there to buy me every color leotard I could possibly wish for, dishing out thousands of dollars funding my sport, only for me to decide that, at age 8, I wanted to quit, and she was there trusting that I was wise beyond my years and knew the right time to walk away.
My mom was there when I was 13 years old and I was afraid to go to school because the previous day I had walked into the cafeteria only to have every single girl get up and walk away from my table. She was there to teach me how to be strong and face my challenges, and she always reminded me that those girls were jealous anyway 🙂
My mom was there when I had my first heartbreak. I cried on her shoulder for hours. She wrapped her loving arms around me, protecting me with her love, filling my heart that had been left empty. She held me until I fell asleep. She gave me strength when I had none.
Oh, and she was there at midnight when I called her in a panic because I realized that I had left all of my softball equipment hanging in the locker room back in Chicago. So, of course, she was there at 6 am the next morning, in Indiana, with enough equipment for me to play with so that my coach wasn’t the wiser.
Mom was there for me when I suffered from the worst anxiety I have ever experienced. When I would walk into her room before work, curled in the fetal position, and she would hold me, just like she did when I was broken and alone, and she’d put me back together.
She was there when I didn’t need her. She was there when I didn’t want her. She was there when I made her cry, and when I told her I didn’t love her. She was there when I threw my temper tantrums and when I only wanted her around so she could buy me things.
She was there when I was an absolute, ungrateful, insensitive bitch.
Because that’s who she is.
What would I do without you, mom?