A Thank You Letter To The Under-Appreciated Mom

A Thank You Letter To The Under-Appreciated Mom

Because spoken words aren't enough.

To the woman who puts in a lot more than 40 hours a week,

I can not begin to name the countless things that you've done for me over the years that I'll never be able to pay you back for. The list is infinite. You've given me everything. Sometimes I even forget to thank you for some of these things. Sometimes I use the excuse that I'm just too busy. I get too wrapped up in my crazy life that I forget my manners and I forget to call you and thank you for the things you do for me. It only takes a few seconds to do this and we both know you've raised me better. I can't promise you that I will never forget to tell you how much I appreciate you, but I can promise you that even when it doesn't feel like it, you should know that you are.

I have so much respect for you and the things you do for me and for everyone else. It takes a strong woman to be able to handle the workload that you do and still have time to treat others with such kindness. You have such a big heart. You're always putting others over yourself. You make everyone feel like they are important. You give everything you have to everyone else and you never run out of energy to give more. Nothing hurts me more than to see you upset, and I try everything I can to make it better for you. My ultimate goal is to make you the proudest mom that you can ever be.

A kindly written thank you letter will never be enough, but it's a good start. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for being the strongest person I know. Thank you for always putting everyone before yourself. Thank you for working as much as you do, and then coming home and working more. Thank you for providing for everyone. Thank you for always staying positive. Thank you for all of the advice. Thank you for letting me cry, but never for too long. Thank you for pushing me to limits that I never thought were possible. Thank you for being my support system. Thank you for making all of my bad days better and all of my good days perfect. Thank you for listening to me complain and making all of my troubles go away. Thank you for feeding me. Thank you for giving me a beautiful home. Thank you for being the thousands of other jobs it takes to be a mom and never once complaining about being a chauffer/coach/maid/cook/nurse/therapist all at the same time. Thank you for never getting too mad at me, but always teaching me a lesson. Thank you for molding me into the person I am today. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being my mom.


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I'm A Woman And You Can't Convince Me Breastfeeding In Public Is OK In 2019

Sorry, not sorry.


Lately, I have seen so many people going off on social media about how people shouldn't be upset with mothers breastfeeding in public. You know what? I disagree.

There's a huge difference between being modest while breastfeeding and just being straight up careless, trashy and disrespectful to those around you. Why don't you try popping out a boob without a baby attached to it and see how long it takes for you to get arrested for public indecency? Strange how that works, right?

So many people talking about it bring up the point of how we shouldn't "sexualize" breastfeeding and seeing a woman's breasts while doing so. Actually, all of these people are missing the point. It's not sexual, it's just purely immodest and disrespectful.

If you see a girl in a shirt cut too low, you call her a slut. If you see a celebrity post a nude photo, you call them immodest and a terrible role model. What makes you think that pulling out a breast in the middle of public is different, regardless of what you're doing with it?

If I'm eating in a restaurant, I would be disgusted if the person at the table next to me had their bare feet out while they were eating. It's just not appropriate. Neither is pulling out your breast for the entire general public to see.

Nobody asked you to put a blanket over your kid's head to feed them. Nobody asked you to go feed them in a dirty bathroom. But you don't need to basically be topless to feed your kid. Growing up, I watched my mom feed my younger siblings in public. She never shied away from it, but the way she did it was always tasteful and never drew attention. She would cover herself up while doing it. She would make sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen. She was lowkey about it.

Mindblowing, right? Wait, you can actually breastfeed in public and not have to show everyone what you're doing? What a revolutionary idea!

There is nothing wrong with feeding your baby. It's something you need to do, it's a part of life. But there is definitely something wrong with thinking it's fine to expose yourself to the entire world while doing it. Nobody wants to see it. Nobody cares if you're feeding your kid. Nobody cares if you're trying to make some sort of weird "feminist" statement by showing them your boobs.

Cover up. Be modest. Be mindful. Be respectful. Don't want to see my boobs? Good, I don't want to see yours either. Hard to believe, I know.

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Quality Time

Have we lost the ability to enjoy each other's company?


So, one day, this older man saw this young and happy couple walk into a nice (but modestly-priced) Italian restaraunt together, hand in hand. They were giggling and laughing. He looked at her like she was some Renaissance-era painting. She looked at him like he ruled the world. The older dude just gazed at them fondly (not like some creep, because some old guys do that you know). They were led by the host to their table. He pulled out her chair for him. She beamed. They both ordered water because they were probably on a budget (or they really like water). The old man smiled (again not a creepy one, but a for-real sentimental one). Then, it happened. The dagger that was drawn. The stone that fell. The smile that became downcast. The date that was demolished: The young man pulled out his cellphone. Not to be outdone, the young woman soon pulled out hers, and the emotional and loving expressions were turned to grey pallets of nothingness. The older man, feeling very brash, lifted himself from his chair very slowly but determined. He bounded (what it seemed like to him) over to the young man and grabbed his phone right out of his hands. The young man, preparing to defend himself from said attacker and thief, was relieved to see who had actually taken his phone because he knew he could take it right back himself if he wanted. The old man looked down at the young couple, then, looking at the guy said these cool, crisp words:

"If you're not careful, this (the phone) will become your mistress."

Grandpa has gone off his meds. Literally. How could a phone be a mistress? How could someone pay more attention to an object rather than a living being right in front of his nose? How could we trade up the ones we love for the ones we have to charge?

I'm no expert at prioritizing my time. This story is as much for me as for anyone. I'm still learning so much. But, what I have learned so far has become so life-changing to me. A mistress(or anything really) doesn't have to be a secret person or a quiet pastime. It can just be anything that we are spending a majority of our time with that shouldn't top our priority list.

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