I realize that in the blur of day to day life, in the remolino of college applications, social activities, school, drama, everything, we forget to thank our parents. We take for granted that they pay ten $70 application fees to schools we will never really attend; we never acknowledge their time wasted watching try on similar prom dress after prom dress only to shell out their own money for an item they will never use; we never even usually thank them for waking us up in the morning, feeding us dinner, or letting us use their televisions.
We all get mad at our parents. It’s natural, it’s expected, it kind of sucks. I realize that in the past some of my entries may not have shown flattering examples of my parental upbringing, but they were written out of anger, as when you are angry with the ones who you love the most, it is sometimes hard to find someone to tell. I used a computer as my vent, ignoring its greater-world implications. I would like to reiterate that these few emotional pieces were written in the deepest of anger, when judgment was all too distant and all my words seemed proper. I want to wholeheartedly apologize for any further hard feelings this may have caused. I never intend to hurt anyone, and I will be more cognizant in the future.
Additionally, I want to take this week’s entry to thank my parents. For their amazing upbringing, their love and support. Their way of pushing me through piano, viola, flute, oboe, and voice lessons, always begging me to practice more yet continuing to sacrifice time and money from their lives to indulge my wishes. I want to thank my mom for driving me for hours to go see Kristy Cates (Elphaba in Wicked cerca 2006) to have her evaluate my singing for ten minutes, and then driving me hours back home. I want to thank my dad for spending hours of his life behind a lens, when he may rather be photographing architecture or nature, to focus on me or my friends and make me feel like a star.
Even though we set aside Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, that never really seems to be enough. As long as a spend picking out gifts for each respective holiday, it is never appropriate for the amount of gratitude I should show to my parents. I want to thank them for every gift they’ve given me, because although they are not usually wrapped in flashy paper and a bow, I know that everything I have—from my abundant wardrobe to my spunky attitude—I am forever indebted to my parents for.
I understand that parental criticism comes from love. That our parents want us to be the best they can be and will stop at nothing until that happens.
My parents like to repeat a phrase from a babysitter I had growing up, “The boy is ok but the girl’s a problem.” I know they’re teasing, but I would never wish to be a problem, an obstacle, or anything negative in their lives. I only wish to try and reward them for the wonderful life they’ve given me. To bring more happiness to their lives and smiles to their faces. To make them proud and joyful, because without their upbringing I would never be able to accomplish anything at all.
To conclude, Mommy and Daddy, I know you’re reading this. I just wanted to say I love you, and that I always will, and although it is not always evident, it is always true. Thanks for slicing my bake sale brownies before school in the morning when I was to lazy to get up, thanks for editing my twenty page analytic papers as boring as they may be, thanks for trekking out in the rain on both days of the Avon Walk, thanks for indulging me. There was never a vacation, performance, or moment wasted on me; they have all had a huge impact and I want to thank you immensely for all the experiences I was privileged enough to enjoy.
Thank you for letting me be myself and for loving me unconditionally as I love you.