I Hate My Mom

The author & her mother, Leticia Macatula

I hate my mom.

For waking me up every single day to go to school.

For force feeding me because she said breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

For giving me sponge baths when I was over-acting with fever.

I hate my mom for not buying me velcro gym shoes because she said I have to learn how to tie my own shoes.

I hate my mom for not giving me too much cash because she said my lunch box is full; what do I need cash for?

I hate my mom for not giving me everything I desired because she said a want is different from a need.

I hate my mom for pushing me to go back to school even after college because she believed in continuous education.

I hate my mom for being my number 1 fan in any endeavor I choose to take. Whether I’m scrubbing the floor or decoding a formula in Excel, she cheers as if she has been there and done that.

I hate my mom for being the strong person that she is. She has been through purgatory and hell and back and then some, and yet her aura deceives you.

I hate my mom for all of the above because these are daily tasks we see moms like her do but hard to top.

I hate my mom even more because she makes me look undeserving.

I hate you, mom, because you always make way when there seems no way, you always have a medical solution for every symptom thinkable, you never fail to offer not only a mediocre solution to a problem, but the best one — all the time.

Then I became a mother myself.

The hate became love and love became the basis of everything that I have ever lived for — my kids, my husband, my family.

Thank you, mom, for allowing me to hate you and for enabling me to realize that love always wins and that truly, love conquers all. ✿

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