Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I will tell them:
I loved you enough to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.
I loved you enough to insist that you save your money and buy a bike for yourself even though we could afford to buy one for you.
I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.
I loved you enough to make you take a Milky Way back to the drugstore (with a bite out of it) and tell the clerk, “I stole this yesterday and want to pay for it.”
I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that would have taken me 15 minutes to finish.
I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children must learn that their parents aren’t perfect.
I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.
But most of all, I loved you enough to say no when I knew you would hate me for it. Those were the most difficult battles of all. I’m glad I won them because in the end, you won something, too.