Sorry, Mom.

I decided today that I must apologize to my mother.

Sorry, Mom.

Here's why.

I have discovered recently something that I never expected to be true. I get far more nervous for my children than I ever have gotten for myself. Assuming this is true for all mothers, I am only beginning to understand how much stress I caused my own poor mother.

Take today for instance. Our school participates in a story-telling contest. Each kid performs a story in their own class, the class chooses a winner, then the winner competes in the school competition.

Emalee won her class competition last week, which meant that today she had to tell the story in front of the school. I know that she had practiced and was excited, but I was a nervous wreck for her all morning. When she went up on stage, I was praying so hard that she'd do her best and not choke. I think that I held my breath for the whole 4 minutes that she was up there.

She did fantastic.

More and more, I realize how much she is like me. (Except that I'm not always fantastic.) She loves to be in front of people-- she loves to talk and teach. She loves to write and is always entering contests at school She loves hitting in softball and playing pitcher and first base. All of these things are things that I've loved doing too-- and I never once realized that I was killing my mother.

Every time she got up to bat, every time she competes in a writing contest, every time she puts herself out there, she takes few days off of my life. I want so badly for her to succeed-- I get sick at the thought of how crushed she will feel if she fails. Which she will. Because she needs to-- just like we all need to fail in order to appreciate success.

I think of all of the things I did growing up-- playing softball (of course I had to pitch), debate, running for student council, applying for scholarships, taking AP tests-- even crushing on boys that were way out of my league-- and I never once thought of how hard it was for my mom to watch me.

I remember the night I lost a really close election for student council. They announced the winners at a dance that night and I was devastated. I left in tears and drove around for a while before going home. I wanted my mom to be asleep before I got there because I wasn't ready to talk about it.

I was such a dork! Of course she wasn't sleeping-- she was waiting for me. I walked in and she threw her arms around me and I just sobbed.

Now that I'm a mother, I realize how hard that day must have been for her as well.

Luckily for both of us, I haven't always failed so miserably.

I hope that I can be as supportive for my children as my mother was and is for me. She encouraged me in 5 years of piano lessons, even though I am pitifully rhythm disabled. She came to my 8th grade dance concert, in spite of the fact that I am as graceful as a rhinoceros on roller skates. She helped me ask a boy to a dance who was way too cool for me. She supported me on a mission to a strange country -- even though my dad told me she was ready to fly there and get me after she read a few of my more discouraging letters.

I bet that she was praying all the time too. (Ever notice how the commandment to "pray always" definitely got easier when you became a parent?) Actually, I don't bet that she was praying-- I know she was. I have felt those prayers many times in my life, and I know that they have helped and saved me.

Anyway, sorry for the stress, Mom. And thanks.