Raising Me

Of all the hats I have worn in my life, the most difficult one has been the "mother hat."

Being a mother is on-the-job training with no handbook to follow. It's a job where mistakes matter and where success is hard to measure. The stakes are high – there's no do overs or second chances to get it right.

My daughters at once fill me with joy and exacerbate me. They reveal my biggest flaws and deepest fears. But they are also responsible for my highest highs and a profound understanding of what it means to love something greater than yourself.

I am many things – a writer, a journalist, a wife, a friend, a daughter – but to them, I'm just "Mom."

I'm not cool. I don't always know best, and I'm quite often "crazy," they tell me. But I'm pretty sure they know I love them so deeply that even a writer can't find the words to express it.

One teachable moment at a time they are raising me, an imperfect mother seeking to make the hat fit the best that I can.


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