A Scary Love and a Public Apology

About a year ago, just after our little guy came careening into or lives, a friend of mine smiled at me and said, 'Now you know how much your parents love you.'

I was truly startled for a minute.

Then I thought: holy crap (well, I probably used a more vulgar word, but I don't want to offend my mother in an effort to honor her).  I thought that for two reasons:

A) A parent's love is a scary kind of love.  Loving someone as much as a parent loves their child leaves you feeling totally defenseless and exposed.  My parents weren't either of those things; certainly not my mother.  She was fearless.

She raised three kids while earning a PhD, working, and keeping the house from collapsing around us.  And we were *not* always perfect (I mean, *I* was, but my brothers...they could be real real trouble).  Plus, she made it look effortless. I never once saw her lose her cool.

At the time, I hadn't been a mom for more than a few weeks and I didn't know when I was going to find the time to wash my hair next, let alone conquer the world like *my* mother -- Especially saddled with the paralyzing fear that motherhood had shaken out of me.  My mom had spent 32 years feeling *that* sort of love for us?

B) OK, I lied.  I was maybe not a perfect angel.  In fact, I was a little sh*t sometimes.  Sorry mom, for the language and the fact that I was a sh*t.

I remember when I was in college and complaining to my mother about the 15-year-olds that I had to 'manage' at the pool where I worked.  I boldly declared that all 15-year-olds were worthless and terrible and *I* had never been 'that sort of 15.'  My mom smiled at me and replied, 'let me just put it this way, when you were 15, I called *my* mother and apologized for the year *I* was 15.'

Then suddenly, I remembered all the brooding and unexplainable tears and the incessant pouting (I was a total PRO at pouting) and stomping and door slamming and downright rude behavior I had displayed in a hormone-driven teenage whirlwind.

And the worst part is, I don't think I apologized.  I think I maintained that I hadn't been so bad, and if she met these kids, she would know what I meant.

I'll do it now, publicly and on the record:

Sorry Mom and Dad.  Sorry for being a sh*t (and for being the kind of woman who needs to use foul language to get her point across).  Sorry for treating you guys like dirt when you were busy loving me unconditionally, the way that only a mom (or a dad) could love a 15-year-old.

And Happy Mother's Day to a woman who deserves only the highest of recognition for turning her three (sometimes terrible) children into decent, honest, upstanding, tax-paying, moderately (or better than that, in the case of my brothers) successful adults.

I love you!