Outwardly, I’m a nice person. To the cashier at the grocery store, to the guy handing me my delicious Jack in the Box tacos: I’m kind. I smile graciously and say thank you. To doctors, police officers, teachers: I’m respectful. This is all true even if I am having the worst day of my life.
Even to most of my family members, I will internalize most of my anger and frustrations and force a pleasant demeanor. I was raised to be polite, and utilize manners in all situations, and I do that… to a fault, actually.
… But, there is one major exception: my mother.
Moms get the full brunt of your most hideous emotions. They are hit with sarcasm, surly looks, sighs of annoyance, and hateful tones. When you’re in a bad mood, they know it. Even if the source of it has nothing to do with them, they’re constantly in the danger zone.
Why? Because they love you.
Moms love you through everything.
They love you when you get your first period on Thanksgiving and are scared and bitchy at the same time.
They love you through your first break-up when you’re screaming at them to give you back your phone so you can make a terrible choice to call back the idiot who doesn’t deserve you.
They love you through those teenage years when you would rather die than be seen with them.
They love you through those moments in the dressing room when you are pissed off at the body in the mirror and dissolve into angry tears.
They love you through your first pregnancy, when even someone breathing wrong makes you want to smack them.
They love you when you are at your wits end with the doctors supposedly caring for your newborn, and you end up crying and ranting at them, as if it’s their fault.
Moms are the ones who are always there, and yet they are put through the ringer undeservingly. Why?
Because they will always be there.
I know my mom will be there for me after my cranky mood has passed. I know she’ll be looking for my smile after whatever storm I’ve been through has broken up. I know that no matter how much I push her away, she’ll always be there, waiting for me to let her back in.
It’s because she loves me the most that I let out my frustrations on her. I know she won’t hold them against me. She’s not keeping track; she’s not waiting to use them against me down the road. She patiently waits for me to become myself again.
That’s what moms do.