To My Mamaz on Mother's Day

Dear Mamaz, it is once again mother’s day and I am once again forced to think of how thankful I am that you procreated with my father.

Well it was ott year and many a moon ago that you either were having a really good night and let slip your birth control regime or, and a lot less likely, you chose to procreate. None the less you got knocked up, way to be Mamaz, you have shamed your family. I also find myself thankful this time of year, that you didn’t take the very logical choice after taking a good hard look at your husband, my father, and abort my fetus butt. Great choice, it is working out very well for me. I feel if you would have taken that step you would have robbed the world of the pleasure of my existence.

I am sure you had plenty of chances to kill me, and many a good reason for such a heinous act, but for some crazy reason I was spared and that was awfully nice as well.

For this and the many important life lessons you have taught me, such as making poop on the toilet (which I practiced again tonight, see I DO practice something), and for coming in with a glass of water when I called because of nightmares (I didn’t even complain that it was always warm and I don’t like warm water, thus proving I am the best daughter ever) I am thankful. I know you didn’t choose me but I guess you took one look and said “When God hands you a lemon, you should make some lemonade” (though I would have preferred you making a lemon meringue pie).

From the daughter you didn’t kill/mame/choose, to my Mamaz who makes the best of everything, and allows me to just be me. I love you.
* As a disclaimer Mamaz probably didn't ever want to kill me but I was the first child and we all know that is the experiment child. I suppose she got a passing grade on this science experiment as she got a real baby, my baby sister J-Potty.