Confession: I love my mom.
Recently more than ever, I’ve come to appreciate being able to be completely honest with her. It’s been a little over a year and a half since I moved away from home to go to school, and consequently, a little over a year and half since I’ve been texting my mom in a panic about every bodily function.
While growing up, my parents always put emphasis on having honest, open conversation about the things others seemed to shy away from. My parents talking to me about puberty and sex were less speeches and warning, but actual conversations. My mom and dad wanted to know what I thought about the subjects, and more than anything, wanted me to know that I could come to them with any questions or concerns that I had.
Now older and less embarrassed about sharing with my parents, I take full advantage of this. I talk to my dad about why cheap beer is gross, why I should spring break in Denver, and why guys are- well, guys. I ask my mom about having back pain during my period, and most recently, about my horrible, horrible hangover.
So after being warned to not trust the ‘trash can punch’ at frat parties, my mom sympathized completely. She never made me feel ashamed for drinking, or like I was I was irresponsibly having a good time. Getting as hungover as I did was completely my fault, but all my mom did was try to help me feel better. And that was wonderful.
It felt so great to be honest with her. As I grow older, my mom realizes the importance of being able to let me make my own decisions, while having her there to trust, to confide in, and to ask advice when I need. She makes sure I know that there’s nothing we can’t talk about, and makes me feel like we really can talk about everything. And that’s why I love her as not only my mom, but as one of my best friends.