Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

Hey, Mom.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning. I’m sorry for what I said.

I know I’ve been a little hard to live with lately. Or maybe a lot hard.

I know I’m moody.

I know my room is a mess.

I know we disagree a lot.

I know you don’t understand some of the things I do.

I know you don’t always like how I dress.

I know I let you down sometimes.

I know I’m expensive.

I know my schedule runs you ragged.

I know my music doesn’t make sense to you.

I know you’re never sure what version of me you’re going to see on any given morning.

I know it feels like I’m pulling away from you.

I know you don’t know what to expect from me next.

I know I can drive you crazy.

I know you miss the days when I was little and fit on your lap.

I know this is hard for you.

But the thing is, it’s hard for me, too.

Do you remember this kind of hard?

Do you remember not knowing what kind of mood you were going to be in from hour to the next, let alone one day to the next?

Do you remember feeling like you wanted to cry, laugh, scream, run, sleep, talk, and hide, all at the same time?

Do you remember wondering why you acted the way you did sometimes?

Do you remember feeling like your brain and your body were going at two completely different speeds?

Do you remember not being sure if the people who were your friends one day would still be your friends the next?

Do you remember having no idea what you were going to do with the rest of your life even though everybody seemed to expect you to have it all figured out?

Do you remember feeling awkward and ugly and unsure of yourself while everyone else your age acted confident and put-together?

Do you remember wanting to fit in and stand out all at the same time?

Do you remember wanting to be noticed but also wanting to be invisible?

I need you to remember all this. Because I need you to love me through this.

I need you to believe in me even when—especially when—I don’t believe in myself.

I need you to guide me, even when act like I resent that guidance.

I need you to cheer for me.

I need you to trust me.

I need you to make me earn that trust.

I need you to have thick skin.

I need you to have a soft heart that can still give out tough love.

I need you to help my not-fully-cooked brain think farther down the road than it would on its own.

I need you to set boundaries.

I need you to let me deal with the consequences of my actions.

I need you to help me pick up the pieces of the consequences of my actions.

I need you to be proud of me, even when I’m ashamed of myself.

I need you to love me even if sometimes you don’t like me.

I need you to remember that I care what you think of me more than I care what anyone else thinks of me, even if I tell you at the top of my lungs that I don’t care at all.

I need you to remember that you matter to me—maybe more than anyone else in the world—even if I act like I don’t want anything to do with you.

I need you to remember that I need you.

I need you to remember that I love you.

I know this is asking a lot. I know I’m asking you to give more than you’re getting. I know I’m going to frustrate and fail and disappoint you sometimes along the way. 

But when we get to the other side, I also think we’ll know and remember this: we got there together. 

You may also like:

When Your Little Boys Aren’t Little Anymore, This is What You Can Look Forward To

This Simple Strategy Changed My Relationship With My Teens

My Kids Are Growing Up, But I’m Still a New Mom

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Dear Mom, This Is What I Need You To Remember Now That I'm a Teenager www.herviewfromhome.com #teens #raisingteens #motherhood #parenting

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So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Elizabeth Spencer

Elizabeth Spencer is mom to two daughters (one teen and one young adult) who regularly dispense love, affection, and brutally honest fashion advice. She writes about faith, food, and family (with some occasional funny thrown in) at Guilty Chocoholic Mama and avoids working on her 100-year-old farmhouse by spending time on Facebook and Twitter.

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