Dear Andrew, Mitch, and Adelyn,
Just don’t fight. One day a year. Don’t fight.
You are familiar with my standing Mother’s Day request for the last 10 years. Save your money. Keep the flowers. Don’t give me chocolate. Be nice to each other. For 12 hours. For one day. My day. Mother’s Day. You guys never made it two hours combat free. Not once.
But today my request is different. You are all young adults now. You have grown up. My Mother’s Day ask is something I would have never asked years ago, but today it seems fitting.
I want you to fight, but not with each other. I want you to fight for me. I want you to weave me in your life. I want you to walk through the front door without knocking, take your usual seat around the table, open the chips you always liked best and tell me about your life. I want you to chat about the silly things and share your tough issues with me. I want to laugh, cry, and pray with you. I want to sit around at night and play Euchre trash talking as the points roll in.
I want you to ask for my thoughts and advice because you want it, not because you are humoring me in my old age. I want you to trust me with your future babies and reminisce how I spoiled you the same way. I want you to show me your discoveries and achievements. I promise not to brag and embarrass you publicly. (I have learned to brag when you can’t hear me). I want you to expose your failures trusting that I will be a safe place. Always. I want you to share your spiritual journey with me. I want to be inspired by you again and again. As I always have been. I want you to include me into your life. Because now you have a choice. You get to decide now if you want to fight for a relationship with me.
When you were younger, you depended on me. I loved it and I hated it. I was exhausted most of the time and preferred a minute alone more than getting you a sippy cup full of milk. Yet you were charming from the second I saw your beautiful faces. You won my heart at first cry. Now that you’re grown you don’t need me to change your diaper or tie your shoes. I won’t be in the kitchen prepping dinner when you come home to talk about your life each day. You live in a different house, with different people. You have to be intentional to talk to me. And you are busy…so very busy. You learned that from me.
Choose me. Fight for me.
So, this Mother’s Day I am asking the biggest ask of all.
Because a relationship like the one we have is worth fighting for.