For letting us roam the neighborhood. And the woods. And the lakeshore.
For making us clean our plates. And our rooms. Even under the beds (where the alligators hid).
For letting us fight. Literally.
For not letting us fight.
For making us get off the phone after 9 pm.
For letting us go to our friend's houses. And to our grandparent's houses. And to camp. By ourselves.
For not coming to get us when we cried.
For teaching us to read and write and say please and thank you and yes, ma'am and no, sir.
For not being our teacher when you could have been.
For Halloween and Christmas and Easter and Valentine's Day and all the birthday cakes in between.
For saying no.
For saying yes.
For holding our hands when we needed it. And our hair back when we needed that.
For making us learn to cook and clean and do laundry and sew and change diapers.
For the difference between play clothes and church clothes.
For knowing what recycling and repurposing was long before it was fashionable.
For making us work in that horrific garden.
For not taking us on the same vacations that all our friends were going on.
For making us learn to swim.
For teaching us how to drive.
For your love of music. Even if it is that crappy AM country station.
For making us go to church.
For washing our mouths out with soap.
For lighting our backsides up when we needed it (and the other three even when they didn't).
For the love of travel. And of books. And of people.
For making us get good grades. And behave in the classroom. No matter what.
For listening to our side. And the other side. Then getting the real story.
For teaching us how to leave home.
For sewing something minutes before we walked in a door or down the aisle.
For leaf cookies.
For the millions of other moments you have been there.
And...for teaching us to write thank you notes.
Happy Mother's Day!
