Oh Darren…I got called a bad mom today. 

There have only been two occasions in which I have been called that; my own mother and your dad. And while I know it should not bother me, it does. The first time I was called a bad mother, it hurt me. Now? It just makes me mad. 

For every night I sat up with you in one arm, a textbook in the other. Or those days I would forget to eat because I was so sleep deprived from balancing you and school. For the time I got up 2 weeks after my C-section and walked on campus to take my midterms. For every moment I would change clothes 20 minutes before work and you threw up on me right after. For all those days I sat up with you and questioned whether or not I was doing the right thing for you. For the night you had to see your dad put his hands on me while I heard you screaming for me in the background. For every day I got my ass up and walked with you to make sure you had diapers or food even if I had nothing. For every time I sat up and didn’t complain not once about having to stay in the house with you because that is the life that I chose. All the times I got up and said why do I even try? Every phone call I made to Jay to shamefully ask him to do your father’s job even though he did it and never once complained. You don’t just have my last, you have all of it. I moved so I could do better for you because I knew you deserved way better than where I was. Of course I’m always harder on myself; but I don’t have to sit and prove myself to anyone but YOU. Somebody better expect a war if they think I’m going to let anyone come in and out of your life when they want and hurt you.

All those moments up there that I listed? It’s only a small piece of the stuff you go through as a mom but I’m rewarded every morning you wake up and bother me so you can lay on me. I’m rewarded when you sit down and recite your alphabet for me and when you count your numbers 1 to 10 in English and Spanish. I take pride in it when I see that you’ve flourished and can hang around people without being upset/scared. I smile every time you come over to me and see I’m in a bad mood but let me lay in your lap, tell me you love me, and give me kisses. I have such high expectations of you but you never cease to amaze me. It doesn’t matter how many hours I’m busy in school or work, I know I sit down every day with you and teach you. You get frustrated and hate when I push you, but I see your potential and I see how your brain soaks up everything I sit down and teach you. I have the biggest smile on my face when people meet you and you talk and they compliment you on your manners or because you speak clearly for a 1 year old. I sit there cheesing like yeah…he knows that, and he knows it because I taught him that. That’s the beauty of being an involved parent.

Maybe you’ll finally let me record you doing a few things…on the sly though, you never want to let me record anything lol.