I’m proud of you, Mom

You’re the crazy lady I tell stories about to my friends. You’re the constant planner and organizer who rarely stays with the same plan for more than a week. You stalked me when I traveled abroad and shared everything I did with everyone in the family. You ask me if I’ve done any job hunting (yes, I have), and then send me links to possible openings near you and Dad.

Honestly, Mom, sometimes you stress me out.

But you drive me crazy in the way only a mother can for her daughter. You helped me find new opportunities to expand my skills and experience new things. You find things you know I love — theater, books, adventures abroad — and you even come along for the ride sometimes. You talk about the work I do with your friends; and while I act embarrassed, I’m really flattered.

You tell me how proud you are of me, but I’m the one who is proud of you.

You worried and fussed when I started driving to karate; and even though we argued about it, I’m glad you cared. You went back to school to get your master’s in special education; I didn’t mind cooking and cleaning while you had class. You did choose to go to UW instead of WSU, but I forgive you for that.

We’ve gone through a lot, Mom. Both of us did a lot of hardcore schoolwork, you and Dad moved to a different state and I had to settle on my decisions for my future career path.

Now, as I finish my final year of my bachelor’s, I just have to say these two things:

I’m proud of you, Mom, and thanks for letting me live at home for a while after I graduate.

Love you, you dang Husky