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Dear TJ,
It’s taken me over a year to remember to write one of these letters to you, and for that, I am sorry. There are so many times I’ve told myself that you did something that I really should document in a letter for when you get older, but by the time I got to my laptop again, it slipped my mind. But there’s something I need to tell you, something really important.
I want to thank you for helping me feel like a “real mom.” When you were in kindergarten, you spent most of your days split between school and Grandma Kitty’s house. Since kindergarten was only a half day, it would’ve given me only 2.5 hours to get my work done…and I just can’t do the work I do when you’re home. So you got to spend more time playing with your grandma instead of feeling ignored by your mother. But that gave me only two hours with you each night before bed, by the time Daddy brought you home after work. That wasn’t enough to make me feel like I was being a good mom to you. I don’t think you experienced any sort of feelings that you were missing out, at least, but I did.
Now that first grade has come and gone, I’ve been able to feel more like a “real mom.” I got to hug you every day when you got off the bus. I got you a snack and asked you about your day. There were even a few occasions where I baked cookies for you just to make you smile. (Okay, and so I could eat some, too!) I got to listen to you read out loud to me every evening. I got to do the things I felt that moms should be doing.
And now that it’s summer time, I get to pick you up at the bus stop when you get home from summer camp. I still get to get your snack ready and listen to you tell me about your day. And always – always – I get to enjoy your hugs and kisses…and I never tire of hearing you say, “I love you, Mommy.” It’s such a joy to be your mom.
Love,
Mommy
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That’s me: Christina Gleason. I’m a writer, editor, and disability advocate. I'm a multiply disabled autistic lady doing my best in this world built for abled people. I’m a geek for grammar, fantasy, and casual gaming. I hate vegetables. I cannot reliably speak, so I’ll happily conduct business over email or messaging instead.
