Growing up, I admired my mom. She always had my brother and I doing such fun activities and going places that kept us entertained. We'd paint all over the basement floor, have water days in the backyard, visit the Magic House, and chalk up the whole cul-de-sac. It was her creativity and stamina that made our childhood so great.

When I got older, I'd look back on all that time she spent with us and wonder what else she did. At maybe eight-years-old, I knew my dad went to work by the planes but I always wondered when my mom went to work and what she did.

When I'd play 'house,' I remember being the teacher and dropping my baby dolls off at daycare. And it's funny that I did that without ever experiencing that myself; I just made that little scenario up based on TV or what my friends did once. As I got even older, I came to realize my mom's job was solely to be our mom, and that alone was the best job for her and for us. I appreciated this sacrifice she made for the development of my brother and I, knowing we're better people because of it.

In high school, though, I wondered why she didn't go back to work at first. Us kids were old enough to drive and fend for ourselves after school or sports, well for the most part. It seemed to me like her job was done. We didn't need to be entertained all day or carted around to this place or that practice. From 7 a.m. to sometimes 6 p.m., we were doing our own thing, outside of the house or what mom had planned. That was crazy of me to think that after fifteen years of being our mom 24/7 she would just hop back into the working world. Though not in the best taste at the time, that little frustration fueled and motivated me. I wanted to work because my mom didn't. I wanted to get a big, fancy job because my mom's job, I thought, didn't count as one.

My high school self-lacked something that still today, I struggle with: appreciation. How selfish of me to think that her job was insignificant to me the older I got. To think how generous it was for her to give up her job to take care of my brother and I, helping us learn and grow while being showered in love, and then to spite her for a period of time during the dreadful pre-teens just because when I got home, she was there. I still regret ever thinking that way because I couldn't really imagine what my life would've been like had she not been there all that time. More importantly, I can't believe the job of being a mom didn't really count because I have learned that it truly is the most important one in the world. It means everything to have parents that are there for you, and one dedicating her day to making you the best possible.

It takes time to realize that certain people in your life, no matter how big or small their role, impact you in more ways than you can say 'thank you'' for. I don't think it's ever too late to let someone know that they mean something to you or that you are indebted to them for their lasting impression on you. That love and appreciation may have been there all along, but what makes it mean something is letting them know.

Thanks, mom!