Dear Barbie,
I never really asked you if you were okay with me calling you that. That's what all my friends liked to call you, and it stuck. Now, I don't have to feel judged for calling you, "Mommy." Mom just feels too grown up; I can't let my mommy go.
Anyway, you know me well enough to know I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to write a whole article about you. That's just how much you mean to me, and I need to thank you for some things. There's so many that I'll probably forget some while writing this.
Growing up, you were always the one to wake me up and make me breakfast if it wasn't grandma. You brushed my hair, laid out my outfit and packed my lunch every morning. You made sure to brush my hair gently because I was an over dramatic princess about the pain. You cut the crust off of my sandwich and took all of the sprinkles off my cosmic brownie. You even took the breading off of my chicken nuggets 'cause I liked them "naked." You didn't have to go out of your way and do those things, but you did because you care. Most parents throw a fruit roll up and a cheese stick in a paper bag and call it a day. Not you, you rock.
You are my biggest cheerleader. From day one, any school event, game, show or competition, you were always there. You carried all of my things and did my makeup, even if you were a little heavy with the blush stick at times. In fifth grade, we had a fashion show, and you watched me model that new clothing line for some local artist. We were walking out, and you turned to me so excited and happy saying how people came up to you and said I walked like a real model. In that moment, I had realized I never appreciated how great it felt to make you proud. From that point on, I never wanted anything more than to keep a smile on your face because you deserve it.
Here's why I'm proud of you. When dad left, I realized that even Superwoman has bad days. It felt like our whole world was ripped apart, and I could only imagine how much you were hurting. I wanted to wipe every tear that ran down your face, but in the back of my mind, I knew that it wouldn't help your broken heart. You were alone with a dramatic 13-year-old and an angry 16-year-old that didn't want to leave his friends. Even with all of these struggles, you still made it work.
Fast forward a few months later, we were happy. Gina rented out her townhouse to us. Aunt Charlotte let us put all of the stuff that we didn't have room for in her basement. Zach's football coach was nice enough to drive him all the way to our new house. Everyone was helping us. I found that I grew even closer towards you; we would always eat dinner and watch "Dancing With the Stars" together. There was just a new sense of peace.
Then it was time for college; I literally would not be here without you. You're the one who helped me study for tests, you're the one who helped me fill out applications and you're the one who told me I could do anything I put my mind to and always encouraged me to reach for the stars. You have sacrificed so much in your life to make Zach and I happy. You gave up the townhouse and moved in with your best friend just so I could go to a great school. If you didn't drop from heaven, then I don't know how you got here. You are the sweetest, most caring and generous woman I have ever met. Thank you for being my angel.
I hope Zach and I are making you proud. I mean I'm pretty awesome, and Zach's okay, I guess. Because of you, we are doing great things. Zach is a firefighter, EMT and security officer, and for now, I'm just a broke college student. One day, we'll be sipping from coconuts and listening to waves crashing, I promise, because you deserve it.
I am writing this, not only to thank you, but to let everyone else know how amazing you are. You deserve to be recognized more. I'm so thankful to have you as my mother and best friend. I love you, Barbie.
Sincerely, your favorite child,
Paige
