I need to start today's post by saying thank you to everyone for their Mother's Day wishes and to mention how thankful I am for my three beautiful daughters who made me a mother. Yes, I know, it's not that funny or sarcastic, but it's how I feel today. I will say, though, that for years I wanted nothing more than to be someone's Mommy, and now I am. That's the greatest thing in the entire world. So thank you to my Lizzie, Kaffie, and Caroline. Even when you're monsters, and you're definitely mine so you're definitely monsters, you're still the greatest things to ever come into my life. Mommy loves you.
As a big benefit, all three of them have agreed to let me move in with them when I get old and feeble and most likely bat-shit crazy. I realize that they're only 9, 7 and 6 now and so too young now to remember this later so I'm going to have them each sign some kind of contract now so I can show them later as evidence while the movers are unloading my things. They're all the best!!! And since they are, I figured I could put a few things into writing myself that should make them feel better about growing up as my daughters.
So here's my side of the contract. To my daughters:
I am going to overlook the fact that you will later bring home some guy named Spike who rides a motorcycle purely in an effort to freak me out. Maybe he'll be named Bubba but we all know he'll serve the same purpose. This being the South, however, Bubbas are easier to come by... kind of like John Deere tractors.
I will try to stay calm when you tell me that you are going to skip college and move instead to the Caribbean to be a professional dive master. I'm going to try to remember that this is really a plus for me because I can show up, relegate you to your couch, sleep in your bed, and use up some tanks whenever I come visit. I'm a regal sort of diver, and the Caribbean suits my tastes well. It's really a win-win situation.
I will pretend not to notice when you hack into the home security system so that the buzzer will not go off when you open the door to allow all three of you to sneak out of the house and run off for the night with the boys waiting at the bottom of the drive-way, but I can't guarantee that your father will do the same. In fact, I'm sort of counting on the fact that he can't. Feel free to put him into a nice retirement home later. I'm looking out for ME here.
I will assure you that life does go on when you tell me that if whatever boy of the day that you love doesn't love you back that you will surely die. Turns out Keith Reems never loved me back and see? I'm still here!! Yes, my darlings, Mommy's been there.
I will dry your tears when the teen years and their hormones hit and you're crying for reasons that you just can't explain to either me or yourself, and I will not have a total conniption fit about it while yelling "Where did I go wrong?!" I might decide to drug you for the remainder of your teenage years but would that really be so bad?
I will let you major in unemployment/English if only because you want to be a writer.
I resolve to buy you a light-brite/Hello Kitty sprinkler/Polly Pocket playhouse when you turn sixteen and tell me that you always wanted one as a child and never did get it and never got over it. Yes, Mommy was there too! I still love that light-brite.
And I promise to embarrass you only minimally, which really is a matter or your point of view, when you do start dating and these boys come by the house to meet the parents. Okay, so my point of view of what's embarrassing may be a little different than your own, but there's really only so much I can do here. Try to cut me some slack. I gave you life!