I think I was a fairly typical kid. I adored my parents, I knew they adored me. As a teenager, I had my obnoxious times in life. I was always (and still might be a little) known to be forward and opinionated… but generally I was very well-behaved. Just outspoken. I always loved my parents, though. I knew they loved us.
When I was pregnant with my first son, I was so excited, like most pregnant moms. I couldn’t wait to get the little bugger out and hold him tight. I was ecstatic to be a mama and couldn’t wait to carry the baby around in my arms all day. I would rub my belly and hug it all the time. I was in love… or so I thought.
And then, he was born. OH MY GOODNESS. I had never understood the term “head over heels in love” until that first cry. Nothing could have prepared me for that feeling of intense, utter, absolute, complete and total LOVE LOVE LOVE that I felt for that tiny little being. For how my heart pitter-pattered like a wild bat in my chest at his teeny tiny finger wrapped around mine. For how glimpses of his eyes made me catch my breath. For how the nurse wanting to do anything to him made me want to fly out of my bed like a raging mama bear, despite the c-section. I was knocked out of the ballpark by this little soul. This smallest of people who commanded every ounce of my heart with every delicate breath…
And then it hit me like a giant truckload of bricks dumped on my head.
My parents loved us this much. No matter how much obnoxious we were, how disobedient, how rebellious, how non-communicative, how combative, how bratty, how quiet we were… my mother and father loved my brothers and I the way I now adored my son. The way he was EVERYTHING in the universe to me, we were to them. And suddenly, I realized I owed my parents a lot more gratitude than I had ever given them. And in that one fell swoop, I was not only madly in love with my son, but with my parents as well. Like I always was but never understood to admit to myself. I’ve always kind of sucked at admitting my feelings. 
Now as a grown woman, with my children well past the newborn stage, I still catch my breath at every little thing they do. My heart still skips beats every time they spontaneously hug and kiss me. And subsequently, mama bear still resides within me and my heart breaks with every tear. I never want to see them sad or angry or hurt. I want to protect them from everything. I want to make everything better. When I see them make mistakes or I think they’re not doing their best, I want to scold them and teach them the right way and spare them the heartache of learning the hard way.
The way my parents wanted to for us.
Realistically, neither I nor my parents could make everything better, nor will we ever be able to. But we are able to be there for our kids. Whether it’s in person for hugs and kisses, for a trip to the mall or the zoo, or just knowing we love each other dearly. Sometimes we have to let our kids grow on their own and let go when they need us to. We can’t make everything right for them. I’m still a pig-headed opinionated strong-willed pain in the neck that talks too much sometimes. It’s true. And for that I apologize to my Mom and Dad. But you have no idea how much I love you and love everything you do for me and my brothers and my family. I could never ask for better parents than mine. That’s more than true. I have the best parents in the universe and I only hope I can be one tenth as good to my children as they are to me.
Mom and Dad, I love you… thank you for loving me… and for being my biggest support system. ❤
Many hugs and kisses to you.
May you all remember to call your parents today. 😀
Lifting Me Up 