Sons be good to your Mothers (Special Valentines Day Entry)

There are few teenagers (let alone high school Seniors!) who still like cuddling with their mothers. I am one of them. This post is in honor of my mother, who has guided me and kept me safe these past eighteen magnificent years. My mother is one of the best there is around. I know a lot of people say that, but that is a fact. I've only "hated" her a few times in my life, but she has also saved me in so many ways that I could never hold anything against her. From my earliest memory I was always closest with my mother. She was there when I learned how to read (Elmo's Big Day? If I recollect correctly), she was there when I learned to tie my shoes, she was there when I learned how to ride my bike, she was there when I had that horrific accident with my teeth that left me scarred for life (thankfully only emotionally), she was there for me when nobody else was, not even the vice Principal of my Junior High. Just like I wrote about my teachers, my mother has gone far above the expectations of any mother. I wouldn't be where I am today if it were not for my mother. I remember when she saw me off for Kindergarten, in fact, she came WITH me to the first day of Kindergarten, snapping pictures of me wearing my school supplies, preparing for the next 13 years of schooling that I would face. I, by no means, have had an easy life, and have enough scarring memories to take up an entire book, but I have had a bearable life, and that is all thanks to my mother. Like when my brother was in much conflict with my family, she took the liberty of contacting my third grade teacher letting me know that if I was tired in class, she should let me rest. Every time there was a bad fight in our house, my mom would pull me out from my bed (where I would be sobbing into my pillow) and pull me into hers, and rub my back unto I passed out. Every time I had a paper I didn't think I could do, my mom would be there to type it for me, while I dictated what to say. She has helped me with countless projects, and I probably owe most of my K-8 academic success to her. Whenever I was young I would curl up in a ball on her lap, whenever we'd go on vacations I would follow her everywhere. Even when I got older, I used to read in her bed, sitting side by side, while we waited for my father to get home.

To every bright side of a relationship there is a dark side. My mother has kept me from doing so many things that I would have ended up regretting doing, that it is not even funny. Many teens find it hard to resist the lures of alcohol and drugs, and I owe my 100% clean nature to my mother. I would never think about doing anything illicit in fear of breaking her heart; why would anyone want to cause their mother more worry than they should? Even in my darkest time, when suicide filled my thoughts, I would never bring myself to do it, for, sadly, one reason; that reason is my mother. She has already lost one child to brain cancer, and I would never want her to think that the way I was raised led her to lose a second. I would never want to leave my mother, ever. Every time I even got close to doing the unthinkable, images of my mother and me having hysterical laughing fits (usually about nothing) popped into my mind. Images of her delivering hot plates of her special cookies to me. Images of her ordering for me at restaurants because I was too timid to. Even when I wanted nothing more than for her to leave me alone, she was still there for me. She never lets me give up, no matter how hard I try to. She always finds a way to calm me down, even if I tell myself I'm not going to let her.

The most significant time my mother has ever been there for me has to have been when I was denied admission onto the eighth grade class cruise. My grades struggled all year, and I shut everyone out, including my mother. I always said I had my homework done, I always lied right through my teeth, sincerely saying I've finished everything. Every time I did that though, a hole in my stomach opened up farther, and farther, until the point that I cracked. I showed my mom my report card, through heavy sobs and abundant tears I let her know what I was going through. At the time I was fully expecting to get blown away, to be called immature. I knew my mother wasn't like that, but I have a tendency to expect the worst. Instead what I was received with was apologies, hugs, and sympathy. I was sincere with her, and she was sincere with me. After that we got me tested for A.D.D., Depression, the works. It turned out that I suffered from both (I strongly emphasize suffer). With this, she went in with me to argue my case with our vice principal, trying to get him to admit me onto the cruise, as my poor grades had a legitimate cause behind them. Instead I was betrayed by an educator, for the second time in my life. He turned the arguement back on my parents, blaming them for not checking my assignment notebook, blaming them for not keeping a better eye on me. After my mother used an expletive, the meeting was ended, and while I was not allowed to go on the cruise, I'd never been happier to have my mother as just that.

Even today, I still curl up in a ball on her lap, and my day is not complete until I get a hug from her. Even when I'm upset and break down into tears (yes, I still cry) my mother is still there to give me one of her should-be-patented back rubs. She's still there, still in my corner, swinging it out at everything that comes at me. The least I can do in return is to protect her. My mother is a proud woman, so she will never admit when she needs help. Based on how close my relationship with her is though, I can tell. I can always tell, just as how she can always tell when I'm upset, even if I adamantly deny it. It kills me that I can't do more for her than I can, which is give her a hug, and help her relieve her stress by talking to me. Even if she doesn't think I'm being sincere when I'm trying to comfort her, or being courteous, I keep doing it, because I know her reactions are sometimes off the cuff, and I could understand her suspicion because I have been known to be sneaky at times. My mother is one of the best ever. I'm not gonna claim the best ever because then people wouldn't believe me, because everyone believes their mother's are the best. No, my mother is one of the best. Even when I'm mad at her, I still undyingly love her, and would never want anything to happen to her. She is my support, my brace, my pillow, my biggest fan, my biggest challenger, my mommy. I don't know a single time in my life that my mom has let me give up. Ever. When I want to give up trying to ride a bike, my mom kept trying to get me to try. When I gave up wanting to tie shoes, my mother kept making me try. When I wanted to give up on school, my mom was there to finish an assignment or two for me. When I wanted to give up on life my mom got help for me. It's hard for me to not tear up while I'm writing this, and I can only hope my mother sees just how sincere I'm being when she reads this. If I ever lost my mom, my entire life would vanish, I can't even handle the thought. I need my mom, just as I need air, and food, and water. I love you mom, words can't describe just how much you mean to me.

Happy Valentines Day