The other day, I was talking to my mom about how I’m scared to have kids one day. Technically, I’m scared of being a bad mom but isn’t that the same thing, being scared to have kids and being scared that someday you’ll be a bad mom (or dad).

It’s like, growing up, we are always told that “one day we are going to have kids of our own” and the thought of that always freaked me out because I feel like I’ll never be ready.

My mom says that when I was a baby, I used to cry, like, a lot. Waking up at 5 am. screaming crying. I don’t know if anyone is ever really ready for that.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love babies and I do want kids in the future, but that doesn’t mean I don’t question what life will be like when I finally have them.

What kind of mom will I be? Will I be the stay-at-home mom or the working mom?

If I’m neither of these, I just want to be a mom who laughs with her kids. I just want to laugh when they laugh. I know that’s a very vague sort of goal to have but I think it’s a safe one. That’s it, I want to laugh when they laugh.

My mom was always laughing when I was. I’ll never forget how she used to chase me around the house, snatch me up and tickle me until I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even catch my breath. I don’t know how she always had the energy to keep up with two-year-old me.

And I don’t think I’ve ever laughed harder than in those little moments.

When I was little, my mom used to read to me every night. I remember sitting in my little twin bed with my sister, and we would be cuddled up next to her. She was always the one who would read and we would just listen, imagining the stories in our heads.

She’s the reason I loved to read so much when I was in elementary school and she’s also the reason I enjoy writing now. We would go to the library together all the time.

There was this one book called ‘Papa, please get the moon for me’ and it was definitely my favorite. I would make her read it to me at least 3 times a day.

And she always would.

There are so many special things she used to do and still does.

When I was around 4 years old, I had this little 101 dalmatians towel. After I got out of the bath, I would only ever want to use that exact towel, so my mom made sure I always could.

When I couldn’t go to sleep at night, she would pick me up and spin me around a couple of times. I don’t know why that always worked but I would always fall asleep right after. It was like our little nightly ritual.

She always knows the little things that I like or don’t like.

I was shorter than everyone as a kid so she always made sure to hold my hand in big crowds because she knew I didn’t like it.

My mom is the best mom in the world but I know any good daughter would say that.

I know that in the future, the day will come when I have kids and a family of my own. People always like to joke around and say “hopefully I don’t turn out like my parents,” but I never agreed with that.

I know that every mom in the world is special, but mine is one in a million.

I remember it all and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Even the things you might have thought that I forgot, I remember it all.

I remember when you didn’t really have the time but you drove me to my friend’s house anyway, or when I told you I had a ride home but you still had to come and pick me up really late.

I remember how you’ve supported any little dream or goal that I’ve ever had. I wanted to learn how to sew, so you brought me to buy fabric and got me a sewing machine. I wanted to learn how to draw, and you helped me make a tiny art box so I could practice.

I remember how forgiving you always were and how you let me be free.

I remember how you always told us that you wouldn’t be mad as long as we told you the truth.

I remember how I can always count on you.

And I know deep down, I don’t ever have to be afraid of anything because I have you as a mom. And you have no idea how proud I am to call you my mom.

So, to my mom, thank you for showing me how to read and write. How to draw and how to cook. How to sew and how to bake. But most importantly, how to dream with my eyes open.

I know I wouldn’t be me without you.

And I hope that one day, I can be half the mom that you are.

As the years go by, I forget to say it as often, but you’re the best mom in the world, and I’m so lucky that your soul made mine.

Happy Mother’s Day.

I love you.

Call me when you read this.