A Mother’s Day Letter of Gratitude (and Apology)

Sunday is Mother’s Day.

If this is your first Mother’s Day, as it is mine, you may not have realized that you are the guest of honor! When my husband asked me about a Mother’s Day date, I assumed he meant for him and MY mother. I didn’t think, wait, it’s weird that my husband and mother are going on a date. I didn’t think, hold the phone, I am a mother now! He probably means he wants to treat me for Mother’s Day! Alas it’s true. However. If your new baby is anything like my new baby, he is unlikely to heap on you the thanks you deserve. Because babies expect you to take care of them. It’s part of the deal. And also because babies are kind of little a-holes.

Nonetheless, you want a present, and so below is a customizable letter from your infant child to you, Moms. Please insert your child’s name, as appropriate, and circle the bullet points that apply to you. You may want to add your own bullet points as you see fit. You may then fashion your own “personalized card” from your baby, and frame it in a highly discounted frame from Michaels or AC Moore. (Are those frames ever NOT 20% off? Can I get an Amen!?) You will then have what is known as a keepsake. Like your baby’s first footprints, only better, because it is about you and not your attention-hogging baby. It is not at all weird that you are making it for yourself. If it comes out really nice you can put it on Pinterest and other moms will envy you and your “crafty infant.”

And so, here you are…

Dear Mom,

I have so much to thank you for, Mom. This letter has been a long time coming. If I had appreciable control over my fingers or bowels it would have come sooner.

I want to thank you, mom, for so many things. But mostly for…

• Continuing to give me baths despite my penchant for peeing in the tub. Every. Single. Night. My thighs hit that tepid water and BOOM! I just have to let it flow. I know this makes you think of the phrase “Golden Shower,” which makes you uncomfortable. I know you’d rather not bathe me in a cesspool of my own urine. I’m sorry about that.

• Continuing to love, despite yourself, the toddler that I am about to become. I am about to make your life a true living hell, Mom. I am about to exert my will like Kim Jong-Un, in a way that you didn’t think possible from the glorified fetus that you see before you. I can’t explain it, but I will just need to torture you, temporarily of course, and then we can both move on. I thank you in advance for your patience.

• Allowing me to suck on your face, like a baby Hannibal Lector, with such reckless abandon. I love to eat your face, mom. Thank you for making it available to me.

• {For boys} I want to thank you in advance for what will be my incredible awkwardness when I turn 13. I’d also like to thank you for putting up with the fact that my voice will someday sound like a woman drunk on helium got into a street fight with 7 stray cats and a cello. Thank you for continuing to listen to me.

• {For girls} I’d like to thank you in advance for dealing with me given that I plan to be incredibly irrational, and I won’t have learned how to properly use a tampon by the time I hit middle school, when I will surely need one. This will lead to accidents reminiscent of my early days, only less cute. And yet you will love me still. Thank you.

• Agreeing to keep me after I defecated on you. Not near you. On you.

• Thinking I look A-MAZING, despite clear evidence to the contrary.

• Taking me into stores with you, even if it’s partly because you think Social Services would get involved if you left me in the car. I know that it is your deep, deep desire to run in and out of stores untethered, doing your errands with the frenetic pace of a cocaine-fueled raccoon. I know I slow you down to a pace that you had not imagined was possible. The pace of a turtle on barbiturates. Thank you for letting me tag along despite this.

• Moderating your drinking so that I can keep breastfeeding. This is a challenge, mom, and don’t I know it. Don’t I know that you would LOVE to take a pile of alcohol test strips and toss them into the air with abandon, creating your very own ticker tape parade at a La Leche League meeting.

• Allowing me to stay in your home, although I spent the better part of three months screeching like a wildebeest every night at the exact instant you and dad sat down for dinner. That was rude of me. I felt left out on account of my gums not providing me with the teeth I needed to eat dinner with you. I realize that this behavior would lead to my removal from fancy places like Chuck E Cheese and the Hometown Buffet if I were to keep it up. I behaved poorly, I’ll admit.

Love, Nolan

….or Sophia/Emma/Liam/Braydon/Olivia/Aiden/Jackson/ Mason/or Isabella*

(*If you had a baby in 2013, there is a 99.5% chance that you’ll find his or her name on that list. If by some small chance you don’t see your baby’s name, please feel free to type it in.)

My son and me.

My mom and me.

How are you celebrating Mother’s Day? What bullet points would you add to the list?