Do any of us really know what we’re doing?
Do any of us really feel like adults?
There was a legit distinction back when we were still kids—even well into our 20s—between the adults and us. Over the years, I’ve never really felt like an adult. I’ve always just felt like “me.”
Even with kids, most of the time it just feels like “me with a kid”, not “I’m a parent.” And in those two or three times a year when you do actually feel like a parent, it’s a little exciting. Like, WHOA. I AM a parent.
Today, I’d like to go on the record as saying V is an excellent mom. And she’s BEEN an excellent mom since Day One. Every parent out there worth a damn makes sacrifices, goes the extra mile, does everything in their power to secure the best possible life for their child. V is no exception.
And she makes it look easy.
Our daughter is smart and kind and funny and curious and creative and smart and amazing. I know I’ve played an equally important role in all that, but P would not be all those things without V.
She is my other half. I have never in my life known another person who so perfectly complements me.
She is strong where I am weak. And she is my greatest ally in the fight for P’s future.
None of us know wtf we’re doing. None of us really feels like adults.
When we ask P what she wants to be when she grows up, she says “Zookeeper.”
Ask me what I want to be, and the answer is “With V.”
Happy Mother’s Day, Mi Amore. Siempre.