Dear Kids, and Yes, By “Kids” I Mean All Four of You:

Don’t do anything for me for Mother’s Day.

I just read this article on CNN and let me tell you: that’s not me. At no point do you need to try to estimate the amount of effort I have invested in you and try to pour some of that back in some sort of honor/gratitude ceremony for Mother’s Day, or any day, for that matter.

Because you owe me nothing. You didn’t ask to be born. Since I went out of my way to be pregnant with you, or, at the very least, realized I couldn’t handle Calendaring 101, I made a decision to have you. I had a choice in the matter and it was my conscious decision to bring you into the world. You didn’t ask for me as a mother, and it would be the soul of arrogance for me to try to say that no one could be a better mother than me. (Though you’re very sweet to say that.)

The whole motherhood deal? It’s not some favor I extended to you. When I was planning to be pregnant, and then got pregnant, I didn’t even know you. I did all this for myself. I had children at first because we didn’t feel like a family without you. And then, once we saw how cool the first kid was, naturally we wanted more.

Once I had procreated, I knew that I was the one who owed you, the kid who was just standing around minding his or her own business wherever it is that kids stand around waiting to be born and then you got picked up and shoved into my life. I owed you everything you needed and some of the stuff you wanted, and if providing that meant that I had to lose some sleep or a vacation to England or whatever, well, I knew the risks. Anything I gave up or exerted or spent in service to raising you was actually an installment payment to my selfish wish just to have you.

If anyone owes me anything for Mother’s Day, it’s your dad. He wanted you (or the concept of you, since we had no idea we’d have you, and if we had known, we would have wanted you even more) and I was the one who put together the arts and crafts project, as it were. So the way I figure it, I could still hold him up for all that time I spent gluing all those popsicle sticks together, so to speak. (In case you were counting, I spent three solid years on “craft projects” for your dad. Not that you owe me anything for that.)

So if anything, I owe YOU on Mother’s Day. You are the realization of the best thing I ever did for myself. I look at you and your siblings and see how smart and funny and interesting and wonderful you are and I cannot believe how lucky I was, and still am. I’m very grateful that I had the great idea to have you. Every time I got up with you in the middle of the night, or sat through a softball game, or stayed up late helping you with a social studies project, I really did it for me.

The time you spend with me now is icing on a wonderful cake that never seems to end.

Your dad? He can buy me a new iPod. You? Just by being you, you have given me everything I ever wanted.

© E. Stocking Evans 2011