Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful moms out there! You definitely deserve it. Especially to my amazing mother. She’s an incredible woman. Her first pregnancy was twins. While the twins were still babies, she had to leave them behind to move to America, barely knowing any English, just to get the babies over here. While doing so, she had her second pregnancy with her third child in America, as well helping her own family getting established into this new country. Eventually the twins come over. Though my dad was there in the process, my mom was definitely the true back bone. With that being said I respect and admire her for that.

As I get older, I notice I am becoming more like her. The way she will dance like no one is watching. The way she dress and carry herself. The need to always look for things that will make her laugh. Of course, I have adopted the notion of eating ice cream during winter time from her. Don’t judge! It’s not weird. You’re in a toasty warm home. You can eat ice cream in a warm cozy house. Actually, that’s when ice cream is really good! Anyway, as time goes on I am slowly becoming like her. Even down to the way I laugh sometime. I just hope to obtain her strength and wisdom.

Days like these are always strange for me though. If you read my entry, Let’s Start From The Beginning, my mother and I didn’t always had a great relationship. It was clear since I was a child, she was disappointed that she didn’t get the daughter she always wanted. I didn’t like dresses, I tortured my barbie dolls, I never played “girl games” like hop stotch and jump rope. I was playing with the boys on basket ball court and “boys toys”; like TMNT, Power Rangers, Transformers and G.I. Joes. I definitely didn’t hit high expectations once puberty have arrived and I took my father’s genetics of being fat and hairy. The devastation continues when, I, a Haitian young girl, changed her mind about becoming a nurse.

In between the constant let downs, I had to deal with her verbal and emotional abuse. In time she became aware of her actions and the way of thinking. She has improved. She is no longer the same woman 20 years ago, but certain behaviors just won’t shake. I have accepted that, knowing the world she comes from and her past. All I can do is forgive her and try to move on. Do I forget those memories, no. But at the end of the day, she’s my mom. She did her best with the tools, resources, and knowledge she had at the time. I may not be the daughter of her dreams, but I am the daughter of her resilience and perseverance of life.

With that being said, I love you mom. Because of your will, I am able to adult one day at a time.