Dear Mom,

Where do I even start?

I may spend at least an hour a week walking you through the process of logging onto Facebook/explaining what a "timeline" is and we may drive each other absolutely crazy. But someone very wise told me (at least a thousand times) that the more you love someone, the easier it is to get mad at them. That same person has also lead me to be the woman I have become today and that someone is you.

I want to start this letter by apologizing. For getting mad every time you told me I couldn't buy those jeans that I "had to have," for every time you said I couldn't go somewhere, and each little fight over things I can't even remember at this point. Even though we've long forgot about almost every one of them, those are still moments with you I'll never get back. With age, you have started to become my best friend, and each and every moment with you is irreplaceable. I have always loved you and looked up to you, and literally thought you were the coolest thing since sliced bread, but now that you've let me spread my wings and fly, this is when the best part of the mother-daughter relationship comes. The uncensored, brutally honest, indescribably awesome friendship. You are no longer leading me blind through life, we are now walking and learning together along the way. There's still a lot for me to learn from you (we have more than a few milestones coming up), but I think we both can agree I've shared some words of wisdom with you in the past few years. And not just how to add people on social media.

Now that the apologies are out of the way, here are just a few of the infinite things I want to thank you for.

For being my shopping buddy.

Even if you do say "no" more than "yes," I can always count on you for an honest opinion. I can always count on you to drive an hour with me to the closest Sephora and feel equally as guilty coming home with all the bags (sorry, Dad). And you even let me be your personal stylist, and you KNOW I would never let you down on that one.

For being codependent with me.

As one dimwitted therapist once told us, we are too codependent. I'm going to turn that negative into a positive real quick and say that therapist doesn't know the wonders of being best friends with your parents (or anything really for that matter). I will never apologize for calling you four to five times a day when I'm at school. Just like how you will never apologize to dad for canceling my train tickets home and coming up to school to pick me up, just to spend five more hours with me.

For hating anyone who breaks my heart.

You are never one to hold a grudge, unless it's the boys who break my heart, or the girls who started rumors about me in high school. Those poor souls don't know the wrath they have brought upon them. No wonder they didn't come to my graduation party, they weren't ready for the you-mess-with-her-I'll-mess-with-you glare (or the crappy piece of cake they would surely receive).

For teaching me to drive.

Teaching me to drive in your convertible BMW was probably the opposite of helpful (the back of the car was NOT proportionate to the front) and, to be quite honest, it was also a huge liability. And above all, I'm still very sorry for the time I hit the curb and scratched the front of your baby and caused you to have a meltdown in the Apple store parking lot. But I wouldn't want to learn to drive from anyone else or in any other, slightly more reasonable car. Ever.

For your sixth sense.

Moms always have an uncanny ability to sense when their child is in danger. Your's must be hypersensitive because sometimes I think you know what's wrong with me before I even do. You have the craziest ability to answer my texts at 4 a.m. (like why else would you be up), and I swear to God the sound of me when I vom.com in the middle of the night can wake you up even out of the deepest of sleeps. And you never fail to come running.

For being the world's best nurse.

One of the many aspects of that 6th mom sense is knowing when I'm sick before I even feel the sore throat or the upset tummy. The worst part about college is getting sick and not having you to take care of me. No one makes microwave soup quite like you do!!!

For always being my favorite travel buddy.

There's no one else I would rather travel with. Partly because you're the only one who will play the same card game with me over and over, but mostly because you just always seem to know where to go and what to do. I've started traveling on my own a lot the past few years, and the anxiety of not having you there to guide me through the airports or train stations speaks volumes. You provide a sense of security that airport monitors just can't. I trust you over them any day.

For the car rides.

While on that note, the drives to and from college are where we've made some of our best memories, had the best laughs, and even cried a bit (or a lot). And going way back, the daily drives to middle school holding hands and listening to/horribly singing Keith Urban songs are memories I will cherish forever. Thinking of all of our memorable drives, whether they were just us driving away from high school drama or driving to the supermarket, is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

For the tough stuff.

I know I've come to you with my fair share of hard things, and I don't just mean needing advice or crying about the typical break up. I mean the really tough stuff, the stuff most people wouldn't imagine telling their parents, and the stuff I probably can't share on the Internet. For any other mothers reading this and wondering how she established this trust with me, my mom, as hard as it may be in the moment, does not show an immediate reaction. She understands that no matter how mad she may be, getting angry won't help either of us. Mom, you put your kids before yourself and have the biggest, most forgiving heart in the world. And I know no matter how badly I may have messed up, nothing I'll ever do will stop you from loving me. Even if it was a speeding ticket...or two (I thought I was going to lose her on that second one).

For always listening.

You always know when I need advice, when I need tough love, or when I just need someone to listen. And thank God for that because I know I'm a talker and no one else in this world would let me talk their ear off quite like you do. You always listen and genuinely care about every aspect of my life. I mean it when I tell you everything in my life, and I know you would never tell a soul (this woman holds more secrets than Gretchen Weiners).

Lastly, for helping me through the ultimate transition.

College has changed our relationship and I'm not sure I was ready for it. As I grow up and become more independent, you listen more on the phone than in person and I see your face on Skype more than I do in the kitchen everyday. That will never get easier. I've learned why you cherish the times Mimi comes to visit. I always used to take seeing you on a day-to-day basis for granted, and it truly scares me that beyond college I will see you even less than I do now. But no matter how annoying it may be, you never miss a video chat, never miss a phone call, never ignore a text. You never fail to comment on my profile pictures and even send me funny e-mails. You make being apart as easy as possible, and you always come early to pick me up from college before breaks, even if it is a five-hour drive. As hard as the distance is, you're the reason I can do it.

It's impossible to outline our relationship in this letter because I'm not sure there's ever been one like it. You truly are my best friend in every sense. You're the first person I want to tell any and all news to and I am truly blessed to have you as a mother. Everyone says their mom did everything right, that they have the best mom, that their mom is the coolest. And that may be true to them, but I know they're wrong. No one can compare to you and you are truly the definition of unconditional love. I think a few parents could take a tip from you and I couldn't tell any of them how you did it. There's no manual for motherhood, but if one ever existed, you would most definitely be the author. I would be lucky to one day be half the woman and mother that you are. I love you more, always.