Momma

My momma gave her life for me and my sister.  From my first memory to the end of high school, I can remember her doing nothing but caring for her family.  Since I moved out of the home, she has continued to guide, advise, nurture and support me through every phase of life.

In the years before I began school, Momma endured what must have been no less than torture as she cared for two children by herself most days of the week while my father was working as a pilot.  With a husband who works in the restaurant industry, I often have a toddler and an infant under my solo care for long days and even longer evenings.  I now understand that parenting on your own (especially during the witching hours) is not for the faint of heart, and I apologize for the many ways in which we must have made her want to lose her mind.

During my elementary school years, Momma drove me to school every day and was there to pick me up when the final bell rang.  She woke before me each morning, made me breakfast, packed me a lunch, and helped me gather my belongings, taking care not to let me forget anything.  She never once dropped me off late.  She was my Girl Scout troop leader, and she took me to piano lessons and made me practice in the evenings.  When I'd fumble and get frustrated, she'd call to me from the kitchen to slow down, listening carefully even as she cooked our dinner.  She modeled a love of reading that eventually led me to my chosen career path.  She made a well-balanced dinner for us every night.  At the time I wished we could eat more fast food, but now I respect and admire her for the true mountain that dinnertime was to climb every...single...night.

Through middle and high school she comforted me through hundreds of migraine headaches.  For eight hour stretches, she'd gently rub my forehead and hold my hair back while I was violently ill, and she'd rub my back while I cried.  When I woke after finally sleeping, she'd be ready with chicken noodle soup and Sprite, or whatever else sounded good.

During my high school years, Momma drove me to all of my track and cross country meets and cheered me on at the finish line.  She'd take me to Arby's on the way home because Jamocha shakes were my favorite thing.  Then she navigated her way through my bad choices in boys and friends, dealt with me sneaking around, shutting her out, and generally being awful and worrisome to her.  I try not to have regrets, but the way I acted during this phase of my life is one thing I'd take back in a heartbeat.  Momma is an angel for putting up with high school Amy.  I'm pretty sure my sister was awful too, so she's an angel for putting up with high school Kimberly too.

After high school, she supported me through college and endured many a frantic phone call about things her melodramatic daughter wasn't yet equipped to handle.  ("Momma they HAVE to let me out of this dorm room!  My roommate is a STRIPPER!")  After college, she continued to support me when I made one bad decision after another, and even in my married-with-children years, she sends me flowers every year on the first day of school, and she packs me a doggie bag after every family dinner.  

All my life, my momma has fed me, clothed me, and nourished me both physically and emotionally.  She has picked me up when I've been down, taken care of me when I've been sick or hurt, and supported me even when she might not have agreed with my choices.  Until I had my own children, I didn't really understand what a mother's love truly meant.  Now that I have my own children, I know that I'll never truly comprehend the ways in which she has loved me, and I'll never fully appreciate the sacrifices she's made in the name of that love.

Love you, Momma.  Thank you.