My Boy, My Valentine

Hey Honey,

I wanted to write you something you might read one day when you’re older on a Valentine’s Day far into our futures. I imagine while you read it, you’ll laugh, and maybe shed a tear and say, “That’s my Momma.” I picture your mind flooding with some of your favorite memories of me. Maybe you’ll sing our morning song to yourself or reminisce on our nightly routine. I hope you will chuckle at the first time I put you on punishment or how we’d fall asleep on the couch on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Wait. I think I’m dead in this picture I’m painting. Scratch that. While you read this letter and remember my quirky motherly ways, I’m alive and wrinkled and cussing about how to work the phone.

But whenever or if ever you read this, no matter where life takes you, you should know that Mommy wants you to be a doctor. No seriously, it’s hilarious how uncoordinated you are. There’s an advanced degree in your future Boop, and I can’t wait to go to all of your graduations!

All kidding aside, hun, you should know that the Almighty did me one hell of a favor by giving me you. Almost immediately after pushing you out, I had two revelations. The first was, “Oh shiz, I make people!” The second was, “I have to be better.” I didn’t know what better was or what it looked like, but I wanted it for you and because of you. I needed you to know what a physically and emotionally healthy, semi-sane mother with good self-esteem looked like. And I needed to know what it felt like to be that woman for myself. Just by showing up, you opened me up. I’d say thank you, but like I said, all you did was show up. 🙂

This was supposed to be a love letter and it kind of is. Kind of. It’s the sort of love letter that comes from the type of mother God stuck you with. I’m not good at mushy, honey, but I’m good at sincere. So with a few minutes officially left in Valentine’s Day 2011, I’ll say this. I couldn’t love you any less if I wanted to. You’ve altered me; you’ve improved me; you’ve given me reason and I hope you don’t know that until you’re 35.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my boy. I hope you’re dreaming about good things like dinosaurs and Indiana Jones.

Love,

Mom

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