an open letter to my mum....

Dear Mom,
I know it must be hard for you to realize that I’m growing up. I know you want me to be that five year old who was only pretending to be seventeen, but it’s real, Mom, I’m getting older.
Growing up is hard enough on it’s own. I need your support in all that I do because in a year I’ll be leaving, and you’re going to have to let me go. You can’t pretend that I’m a little kid anymore. Let’s face it, Mom, I’m not.
I know you want to be there to protect me from all the dangers of the world. I know you never want me to get hurt. But it’s impossible, Mom. I know you don’t want me to dye my hair because you’re afraid it will get messed up, or that I’ll hate it. But I need you to let me make my own mistakes. Let it be my choice, and if I hate it, it will be my own doing, and maybe I’ll learn to think harder before I change my hair next time. What will happen when I have a much harder decision to make than what shade to dye my hair? I won’t always have you there to say “no”, to make the choice for me, I need to learn on my own.
I know you want to do things for me. I know you want to shelter me, to help me, to be a mom. But big responsibilities are coming my way, much bigger than just doing my own laundry. I need you to let me do things one step at a time, to learn for myself, to stop being dependent on you for everything. I know it’s your job to take care of me, and you still can, in some aspects, but I’m almost an adult, it’s time to step aside and let me do things on my own.
I know it’s your job to tell me what to do. I know you’re supposed to yell at me, to nag me, and to tell me to clean my room. But, Mom, when I get to college in just one short year, will you be there to tell me to clean my room? I’m old enough to tell when my room needs a tidy, I just do things slowly, and I clean when I feel like cleaning. But it gets done, I promise. Let me take this one responsibility and not have to be told to do things. You no longer have to tell me to do my homework or to take a bath like you did when I was younger, I’m starting to learn to do things on my own time, and sometimes there are consequences, but I want to learn those on my own. I don’t need you to be there telling me what to do and when to do it. Soon enough, you won’t be there telling me, so I should know how to act for myself before the time comes.
Please trust that I can make the right decisions for myself, and not always need you there to tell me. Trust that I will do the right thing, trust that you have raised me right and believe in your heart that things you told me will carry on to the rest of my life.
I know it’s hard to imagine letting go of your first baby. I know I’m supposed to be that tiny girl you held in your arms years ago. I know I’m supposed to be at home with you watching Sesame Street and eating Popsicles. Those times were great, but now it’s time to move on. I’m not a baby anymore. I know the first child is supposed to be the innocent one, the one who has no older siblings with evil ways for me to follow. I still have innocence, Mom, but I’m older now. I want to grow up for real. I want to choose my own path and grow and learn. I don’t want to be treated like I’m five. And I wanna tell you, Mom, you got lucky with me. I know you always say that, but I just want to remind you. You’re lucky that I’m as innocent as I am. You never really told me anything but that drinking and drugs are bad. You told me horror stories but you never really went in to depth with me. You never told me that I’d be curious about drugs, you never told me I’d want to experiment, you never told me I’d have to choose not to when everyone else was. You never talked to me about sex. You never told me that it’s all boys really want, and you never talked to me about birth control or ways to do it safely. You never told me reasons not to. Luckily I grew up with a good head on my shoulders, fell into the right crowds, and set my own morals. I knew not to do the things I told myself were bad. I knew how to resist peer pressure and to not do things I didn’t want to do. I knew I wanted to save myself for someone special. But, Mom, talk to your other kids. Kids these days aren’t as innocent as your own, and you might not get as lucky with them. Please do what you never did with me, talk to them, be a friend, develop a relationship, let them know they can talk to you about anything. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, I know I was your first, I know it’s hard to talk to me, but growing up I never felt I could talk to you about things like sex and drugs, or even just boys. I kept it in my head or talked with friends. Luckily, I turned out okay, but some kids don’t do okay not feeling like they have anyone to talk to. So talk to them, Mom, I’m begging you.
Know that I have a mind of my own. Know that I can think for myself and that I’ll be okay in the real world. I know I can make it. I have examples from you and Dad, good and bad. I learn from you guys everyday, whether you know it or not. But I want you to know that I don’t necessarily believe everything you and Dad believe. I don’t always think what you guys think, even though I don’t always voice it. I’ve been able to mold myself from my own experiences, not just from what you’ve told me throughout the years. I disagree with you on a lot of points, I just want you to accept me for who I am, no matter what; that’s what a mom does. I want to make my own choices, just like I’ve made my own thoughts, opinions, and morals. Would it be so bad to make it my choice whether I go to church or not?
I’ve learned a lot about parenting from you. I’ve learned what to do and some things not to do. I’ve learned what you do that works on me. Like when you tell me to do something a million times, I just get annoyed and never do it. When you tell me once, and tell me the consequences of not doing it, I eventually get to it. Now I know what to try on my kids, and what might not work. Just because you weren’t always the perfect parent doesn’t make you a bad one. Sure, I’ve had those moments where you just made me wish I could run away from home, but every child has those. We can’t always love you all the time. I’ve learned that. I’ll know that my child loves me deep down, but in every moment, they will not throw all their love into me.
I know that it’s hard to let me go. I know that it’s hard to watch me grow up before your eyes. Trust me, it’s surreal to me, too. But you have two other babies to take care of. I need you to not worry when it’s time for me to go. The Mama bird knows when her babies are ready to take flight, and when they time comes, she lets them. Let me go, Mom, no matter how hard it might be. I want you to start now. I want you to give me those responsibilities, let me make those choices, just start out slow. I want it to be easier for you, because I know it will be much harder on you than it will be on me. I know you don’t want your first baby to be an adult, but I will be.
It’s hard because I’m first, I know that’s why it’s so difficult for you to let me grow up the way I want to. It will get easier with each child. I promise it will get easier. But let’s embrace the changes that are happening. I’m going to be going on to one of the most exciting times in my life. It’s going to be a great experience. I know you’ll be worried about me, it’s a mother’s instinct, but I don’t want to have to be worried about you. It’s time, Mom, we can do this together.


love,
irish