A Letter Inspired by a Better Letter


A few days ago, my sister forwarded me a link to an article called, “A Mountain I’m Willing to Die On,” written by a woman named Glennon Melton, which I read, loved and shared with 170 of my closest friends.

It’s an amazing declaration of unconditional love by a mother for her son while at the same time, a demonstration of unwavering support for basic human civil rights. (Phew. That’s the longest sentence I’ve ever written that didn’t have some element of sarcasm in it.)

After I read it, I told several people, “I wish I’d written that.” And then I realized, DUH, I CAN “write” it. I mean, just because she had the idea first, doesn’t mean that I can’t just steal it, copy it to my blog and call it my own. Mwah hahaha.

“Plagiarism can be considered a felony under certain state and federal laws… [a plagiarist] may face up to $250,000 in fines and up to ten years in jail.” –www.plagiarism.org

Oh. OK, so I can’t just steal it, copy it to my blog and call it my own. (Wah waaah.)

Then I thought that I could write something just like it and be just like her. But that’s when I realized that Glennon Melton is currently in a very serious relationship with God and is also a recovering alcoholic and bulimic. Some bitches have all the luck, am I right?

So I can’t steal her post and I can’t write exactly like her (because I am baggage-free, people! Whoop whoop!) BUT I have been inspired by it. Inspired to write my own letter to my kids expressing something that I feel is very important for them to know. (I could write them all individual letters but c’mon, that would take soooo long.)

Here goes…

Dear Darling Children 1, 2 & 3,

I forgive you.

Yes – take a moment, let it sink in – I forgive you.

I forgive you for the many injustices I have suffered. Injustices so innumerable, I couldn’t possibly list them all… but I’ll try.

I forgive you for turning my body into an alien vessel for 27 months (remember, this is a group letter) and for leaving actual physical markings on said body as if you were the dogs and I was your territory. I forgive you for all of the sleep you have stolen – the hours and hours and hours of sleep you have stolen and continue to steal, night after night. I forgive you for being human cesspools in which germs celebrate their growing population and for then sneezing directly on my face. I forgive you for spitting up on my neck and peeing on my lap. I forgive you for pooping during the first five minutes of a three-hour road trip. I forgive you for dismissing the meals I’ve spent time cooking (rare as they may be) and ignoring my pleas for “good listening ears.” I forgive you for all of the torturous mornings and for making the simple act of getting out the door more difficult than actually giving birth to you. I forgive you for all the “NO!”s and the temper tantrums and the meltdowns. I forgive you for embarrassing the shit out of me many times, in many public places. I forgive you for being bratty and noisy and cranky and hyper and waaaaaay too whiney. (Seriously though, could you be any whinier??)

I forgive you in advance for telling me you hate me. Loudly. In public. And for choosing your friends over me. And for failing your drivers’ test… because you hit a tree. And I forgive you for all of the eye rolls and door slams (and I know there will be many). And for your annoying hormonal moodiness. And for your cell phone bills. And for missing curfew and for sneaking out of the house way after curfew. I forgive you for ganging up on me with your siblings (actually, there is a part of me that will love that) and keeping secrets from me. I forgive you for all of that tween, adolescent and teenage ugliness.

Now listen, this doesn’t mean that I’m not going to be extremely pissed off when you sneak out of the house and miss curfew. You should know that in that moment, when you do finally walk in the door, I’m going to be your worst nightmare. But ultimately, you will be forgiven. Many, many months later.


Oh, and the crying! I'll try to forgive that, too. But I'm only human.


PS. Please read the letter Glenon Melton wrote to her son in her article, “A Mountain I’m Willing To Die On.” Ditto what she said, too.

8 responses »

  1. I forgive you for hitting your brother (seven times) with the Wii controller. And I forgive me for letting you play the Wii (for seven hours) because I want to sit on the couch and lay Internet Scrabble.

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