Mom, pregnant with me at 21, eating ice cream for two.

One of the worst parts of growing up is that no one hangs my participation ribbons on the refrigerator anymore. There’s no one I can be rude to after a bad day who will take it in stride and fix me a snack. Nobody calls at 2AM to ask why I’m out so late when I have work tomorrow. No one feigns interest in my passion of the week, then surprise when that passion is gone. Adulthood is hard without a mother nearby to take care of me, which is something I tell my fifteen-year old brother all the time when he’s whining about his curfew. He may not understand it yet, but the older I get the more I realize how hard it is to be a mom.

Even with all this wisdom of old age, it’s still easy to take my mom for granted. I know she’s going to love me even though I dropped out of college. She’ll forgive me even after I move all the way to Boston, and again when I don’t get a real “respectable” job with benefits. She’s my number one fan, though I don’t always return her emails right away, and sometimes forget to call on Sundays. She won’t protest if I blame her for my issues with eating. She understands that I yell, even if all she wants is help fixing the printer (again).

The truth is, she’s seen the worst of me, yet she always stands by me. So thank you for everything, Mom. I love you, and Happy Mother’s Day. Sorry I forgot to send you flowers. Here’s a cartoon of an owl instead. I hope you like it.