This is a compensated post whereby I’m receiving a $50 Visa gift card but YOU can win a box of chocolates. Just in time for Valentine’s Day!
I have a lot of love stories in my life. Perhaps it’s because I love a lot. I love hard, I love fast, and I love deeply. It’s just the way I do things. When I first read the book “The Five Love Languages” years ago I finally realized some things about myself. One, that I enjoy physical touch. Whether it’s my children brushing my hair or my massage therapist knocking out some kinks or a date who touches the small of my back when we’re out for dinner, I love physical touch. As a recovering hugger (I can’t hug my students all the time, but that side-hug thing seems to work out well!) I know how enjoyable it is to be on the receiving end of a comforting squeeze.
While I can tell a story about how much love I’ve given away, though, I’d rather share one about how much love I’ve been given.
This is a love story about my daughter.
There are a thousand love songs written about a significant other. The boyfriend who cooks and makes amazing dishes just because he can’t wait for you to try something. The wife who carefully decorates the husband’s office and surprises him with photos of herself. The husband who whisks his bride away for a week on some tropical island. Never once have I read a love story about how much j’adore a daughter has given her mom.
Mallory saved my life. She happened at the worst possible time, but a time when I was a wild child. Luckily, the best thing came out of that and she slowed me down. She made me re-think my decisions and focus on what is important. The only reason I went to college was because I had to provide something better for my baby.
She stuck with me when I was a terrible mom and she spent her entire 7th grade year perfecting the face that said, “YOU are the dumbest person on the planet.” When I made mistakes I told her that I was sorry. When we spend food stamps at the store I apologized with my eyes but gratefully went home and cooked her a meal. When she learned, at age 5, to make a pot of coffee she would bring me some in a mug if she thought I wanted some. What five year old does that? She remembers how we struggled financially and knew she couldn’t have every single new Barbie doll that Mattell made. I cried because she couldn’t have it. She took my face in her chubby hands and told me, “That’s ok, Mom. I have enough.”
My daughter was an easy child. I could break her with a look and she would straighten up right away. I never had to stay on top of her with regards to her homework because she did it on her own. When she wanted advice from and English teacher momma, she’d ask for it, but she didn’t want me to give her any special favors.
There was a long stretch of time when I tried hard not to completely suck as a parent, but learning to make mistakes and then get something positive from them is something that came directly as a result of parenting Mallory. She forgives easily, listens to my advice (still! at 23!) and is amazingly tender with me. I don’t know how I got so lucky to learn about what love truly is, that unconditional and accepting love, but she keeps coming back to teach me more.
She probably deserves a box of chocolates for that, doesn’t she?
Nope! You do! Share your sweetest love story in a comment below.
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