“Sometimes its the journey that teaches you a lot about your destination”….-Drake

Dear Son,

I took a creative writing class today and the teacher asked, “why are you here?” It took me a while, but I finally realized what made me schlep it all the way to Brooklyn with a pen and a notebook in hand. Sadly until that question was asked, I had no idea why I was going. I just knew I needed to get out the house.

But finally it hit me….what I’ve realized son is the thing that brought me to this class is you.

Over the past 3.5 years I’ve been quite overwhelmed with being your mommy. You have proven to be my biggest challenge in life. Now according to my resume I was not only suppose to meet this challenge head on, overcome it gracefully but also wow the world in the process. Sadly, I don’t think that’s going to happen.

What I fear most is my biggest challenge, that being your mommy, I will fail miserably.

For the record, I already know I’m not the best mom out there. Hell, I hate changing diapers. Keeping to a bedtime schedule annoys me. And I still don’t see anything wrong with cookies for breakfast. Oh and yes, mommy just used a bad word. But what I do know is that I love you more than any one will ever know.

Don’t get me wrong there are a few things we both would agree that I’m good at. I’m great at finding things for us to do on the weekends. Yes that was us at Sesame Street Live, Lego Movie and the park last weekend. And I’m great at going down the slide with you. That’s because I secretly love it too. Shhh

But what I’m not good at is telling and showing you how much I love you. Though I kiss you nonstop every morning and every night and Mommy always says “I love you,” love is so much more complicated than that.

It’s taken me many years to learn this, but my dear son, love is the most complex gift one can give. Love is being vulnerable enough to show you who I really am.

So, here is my attempt at true love.

I joined this class so that I can tell you my story. I want you to know the disheveled, lunatic you call mommy. I want you to know my heartaches, wins, and dreams directly from the lady you give your sticky kisses to. You need to know who the dred loc rocking, micro manager, who holds your hand when you cross the street really is.

As you grow, many people will tell you stories of me. Mommy’s friends and your aunties will share their stories of the red haired girl who threw rocks at the little boy who stabbed Aunty Nicola with a pencil. And their stories will be factually true. In their eyes I was much braver than I really am. And I must thank them for that. For no one really knows the mommy that cries at night. No one really knows the broken little girl still searching for love and acceptance.

So we will take their stories of the brave woman and combine them with the little girl and hopefully both of us will grow from love in the process. Son, to truly show how much I love you, I will show you me. The me only I can tell you.

So brace yourself Mikey, we are off to a crazy journey….Together.

Luv Mommy

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