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Day 3: Parents

Dear Parents,

You are great, and I am not always. Seriously, you're the best. I know I don't always tell you that, and you definitely get the brunt of my bad side. After all, who sees you at your worst more than the ones who love you the most? Because they have to love you no matter what. And you do. You do, and more than that. It's in the way you overreact and ground us from everything for a week and then come appologize and reduce it after an hour. Or how you embarass me by yelling at the boys across the field before church. Or how you bring me a candy bar even after I've said I don't want one just cause I'm in a bad mood. You see right through me, and you know everything about me before I even do it. But what can you expect? You've known me even before I knew me.

Really, you're the epitome of putting your kid first. You've sacrificed everything for me, and I know you always would if I needed it. Sports practices, vacations, camps. Money, time, driving back and forth. You've been to almost every game, competition, award ceremony. It's amazing. I'm terribly, terribly lucky to have such amazing support and love, and terribly, terribly unappreciative.

But it's not just that you've shown me love; you've also given me the discipline and tools I've needed to be able to step out on my own. You haven't handicapped me. Isn't that the goal of parenting? To do such a good job that your kids will eventually leave you? Even though I don't always open up, and even though our relationship isn't from the movies, and even though I have flaws, I couldn't imagine anything better. I see myself become more and more like each of you every day. And that's terrifying. But I just hope someday I can do half as good of a job as you have with my own kids. To give them memories of Easter egg hunts and Christmas trees, kickball coaching and apple orchards, makeovers and playing Little Mermaid. And to love them so well that they eventually leave and go do it themselves. Thanks.

Love, Lolo.