I was snuggled up between my two favorite girls last night and I thought about my mom. I remembered some good stuff. It made me cry, of course. But I want to remember the good parts.

So I ate ramen a lot. Years and years of ramen. I didn’t always eat it because there was no other option. Sometimes I refused food. Sometimes we had other things to eat and I just… couldn’t.

For example, my mom really liked liver and onions with boiled spinach. For the life of me I still don’t understand why she liked that meal… but she did. When she would cook it and eat it she didn’t pressure me to eat it. She kept her tone light and upbeat. She would lovingly taunt me about how gooooood it was. She told me I was missing out. She told me it would make me healthier and stronger.

I thought she was antagonizing me. I was not capable of accepting it as her attempt to be my parent.

I’m really sorry mom. I’m sorry I don’t give you enough credit for doing anything right. You did do some things right. You tried to get me to eat more diverse, healthier foods. You didn’t force the issue so that it became a battle. You allowed me to have a locus of control to balance out all the areas of my life I couldn’t control.

Thank you. There was no all-good or all-right decision there. There were only varying degrees of bad decisions. I think you made the right call even though I still deal with the nutritional deficits.

Thank you for never hitting me over food. Thank you for never berating me over eating.

Thank you. You did do some things right.