Happy Mother's Day!

Friday night, I got home from work at about eleven. It had been a long day and a long week, and I was tired and ready to crash. We were leaving super early Saturday morning to go visit my sister, and more than anything I just wanted to fall face down on my bed and not move for eight hours.
The first thing I saw when I walked into the kitchen were the dirty dishes. That was normal, and the dishwasher was empty, so I could handle it. As I loaded them, my eyes drifted to the kitchen table, which was covered in newspapers, what looked to be a finger painting, a roll of tape, scissors, a hole punch, a roll of yarn, and markers.

I knew that the perp was my son, because he gets creative often, but his enthusiasm doesn't extend into cleanup. He was asleep in his room, and I didn't want to wake him up to yell at him. I also didn't want to leave the mess for the morning, because I'm anal like that and I like to go to sleep in a clean house.

So I cleaned it all up. It didn't take long, really, and when I finished I surveyed the clean kitchen with satisfaction and turned to go down the hallway.

I saw the boys' bathroom light was on, so I reached in to turn it off and got my next surprise.

Hunter had cut his hair. To his credit, he had cleaned quite a bit of it up, but there was still a fine misting of hair on the counter, in the sink, and all over the rug and tile on the floor.

Another huge sigh as I went to get the broom. Again, the thought of leaving that for the morning just didn't sit well with me.

With the bathroom sparkling, and me grumbling, I went into my bedroom and flipped on the light.

That's when I saw it. A big envelope consisting of several sheets of computer paper taped together. Yarn was threaded through holes punched in each side and "Mom" was printed on the front in red marker.

I opened the envelope to find a seven-page handwritten letter that read as follows:

Mother,
I want to start off this letter by saying that you're dumb and I don't love you. I'm only writing this letter out of sympathy. Everybody knows that Mother's Day is a made-up holiday that was only created by some chick who thought the world owed her something just because she pro-created like she was supposed to [author's note: not true, but bless his heart]. However, whilst I was doing my usual business and ignoring you so I could watch cat videos, an advertisement played before one of them. I had my hands full because I was eating the dinner that you cooked for me (and I probably didn't thank you for, but rather most likely made a snide remark about how bad it was). So I didn't skip the advertisement after 5 seconds like I usually would have. The ad was made by Google, so I wasn't too upset. They typically have good advertisements. If it was the new ad for the upcoming, seven-part series about North America, I would have thrown my plate across the room and stopped it, because the song that plays during that ad fills me with a burning rage that is only comparable to the rage I feel when I see your face. I mean seriously, the budget for that documentary is probably massive, and it sounds like the guy who was in charge of picking the music had a 5 dollar budget, and they told him he had to right (sic) the music himself and play every instrument at once, while singing. Oh, and he was deaf. From birth. It's so bad. Anyway, back to this Google ad. It started out with a nice acoustic guitar, and I could tell it was about to get emotional. The ad consisted of a compilation of videos of pretty awesome moms. There were kids that were talking about how thankful they were for their mothers. How strange, I thought. I was relatively unaffected because I was trying to keep down the dinner you made. But the last clip got me. It was a young woman in an Army uniform, which I presumed meant that she had just come back from a vacation, or something. Anyway, she was heading towards a very young boy, presumably a few years of age or less. The boy looked at the woman for a moment, and then outstretched his arms and cried, "Mommy!" Everyone in the area laughed and cried, and fun was had by all. My heart strings were played as if Jimi Hendrix were playing a harp, but like his expertise of the guitar was transformed into harp-expertise, or "harpertise" as we call it in the business. It was then that I realized, there are a lot of great Moms out there. Millions. Moms that would do anything for their child because they love them so much. But then there is you.
I would not put you in a category with these moms. No no, there is something different about you. You don't treat me like your son. You treat me like a fellow human being and individual consciousness that just so happens to be like yours. You take care of me because you want to help me progress through life, not because you feel responsible. Not many Moms are like you, but the few who are, know how to raise a child. There aren't any Moms on this planet that I would rather call my own.
I got pretty darn lucky, and I know it. I really do. I know I'm not great at showing it all the time, but surely that's just an age thing. But I really do know how lucky I am, and I am very thankful every day. I love you so much, Mom. Oh yeah, and you owe me tree-fiddy.
-Loch Ness Monster [author's note: a joke from AskReddit]

So when I read that letter, all the irritation melted away and I saw the night for what it really was: an opportunity for me to be grateful. Yes, I have this child who makes messes and doesn't pick them up and who drives me crazy, but how lucky am I to have him around for all of the great times? A little mess here and there was a small price to pay for all the joy he has brought into my life.
Then, today on the way home, I stopped to get gas and Zane ran into the gas station. I started to get worried after he was in there for awhile, and wondered if he had picked something out I needed to go pay for. Just as I was about to give up and go check on him, he ran back out holding some candy.
"What'd you get?" I asked, thinking he had bought himself snacks.
He flipped a package of Starbursts at me nonchalantly.

"Happy Mother's Day."

I thought I was going to cry.

I really am the luckiest mom ever.