ME! This will surely make me Mother of the Year: 

So, I picked up my Daughter at Kindergarten yesterday, and she is so excited to see me, and gives me a big hug, and hands me this envelope. “I made mail for you, Mama! Open it!” She exclaims. I laugh as I look at the envelope, it is addressed to “Kristin” instead of “Mom”….pretty cute.

The outside of the card said “So Grateful”……awwwwww- so nice to be appreciated as a Mom! Here’s what the inside said:

WHAT????? “I don’t hit you!” I say to my Daughter, as my eyes dart quickly around the school play yard to see if any of the other Moms caught a glimpse of my “mail” . “You did too! You spanked me.” She is telling the truth. I know that everyone has very specific and strong opinions on corporal punishment, so save me the lecture, and the phone call to CPS. In our home,  spanking is the Granddaddy of all punishment, and is reserved for only the very worst of offenses. That particular morning, she had just been spanked for spitting at me and calling her Brother a jackass. But there is a big difference between spanking and hitting…. spanking is teaching a lesson and not done in anger, hitting is in anger, and something a parent only thinks of doing when their five-year-old spits at them when you tell them that it’s time to leave the McDonald’s Playplace. I digress…

“I do NOT hit you.” I explain to my five-year-old, whispering so that the other Moms and teachers can’t hear me. “If you are really misbehaving, you get a spanking, with an open hand, and not very hard…” I realize that I am trying to defend my actions to my five-year-old, then a horrible thought occurs to me: “ Oh, my God”, I think to myself, “who helped her write her “mail”, and saw this? They’re gonna think I’m beating my daughter- which I am TOTALLY not! How could anyone think I would hurt my kids? They’re gonna take my kids away ’cause I spanked them for saying jackass!!!!” My mind is reeling with all of the horrible possibilities….. I take a deep breath and quietly, and calmly ask, “Sooooo…..Did your teacher help you with this?” “No, I did it by myself!” She answers proudly, with a grin. A small amount of relief washes over me. “Wow- you spell really good!” I say, trying to find something encouraging to say to my kid. And ever since, I have been wondering what kind of character damage and psychological derrangment I have done to my kid by spanking. Images of Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” flicker in my mind- the part where he’s in a dream-sequence and he’s dramatically telling his mother he’s blind from the soap that she put in his mouth for saying the “F” word. I feel like the shittiest Mom ever…..

Interestingly, my Daughter made Daddy some “mail” too. His was addressed to “Daddy”, and said, “I love to play with you!” Seriously? Why do Daddies always get to be the nice ones?

Dear Papa,

I thought that you were invincible. The man who told me stories of being a Veteran in the war. The man who was a racing hero, and showed me countless pictures of you holding trophies that were bigger than me, standing in front of amazing racecars. The man who could fix anything with a pocketknife, or a kiss- whether it was my scraped knee from riding my bike, or a broken dolly- you could fix it. The man who spent hours with my little hand in his, walking me through each of his impressive machines in his garage, and explaining to me what each one did, and showing me how to make sparks on the grinder, or how to shape a peice of metal on the lathe.

Papa, you are more of a Grandfather than any little girl could ever imagine or dream of.  So many of my fond childhood memories include you, and I was so blessed to have been your little pal when I was a little girl. I loved watching you work on the cars, or going to the auto parts store with you. I loved sitting under the car with you on the Creeper, and me sitting by you, handing you tools. You would tell me what each one did, and years before I ever even drove a car, would show me where the oil goes, how the engine works, or how to change a tire.  I loved the smell of the orange cleaner you’d use to scrub your hands, or the way your hardworking hands had all different “boo boos” all over them from working on the engines- I was fascinated by all of them! But also loved watching the same hands do tender tasks like fix my dolls, or peeling an orange with me when I was supposed to be going to sleep, or “fixing” my ice cream cones, so that they didn’t drip.

It has been such an amazing blessing for me to watch you with my children. One of my favorite pictures of you, is one where you’re holding my Son for the first time, and you’re this strong man, wearing your red racing hat, and in your arms, you’re holding this tiny little baby, and you’re smiling the most beaming smile. I truly cherish that picture! I love watching my kids laugh with you, or Clayton walk around wearing your glasses, or you helping Avery fix her toysl, or listening to you telling them a story, as they sit on your lap, and watch your face with curiosity and amazement, just like I did.

I know that this past month has been incredibly hard on you. I can’t imagine the strength, the hope and the perseverance that it must take to wake up every morning, and keep going despite the challenges and obstacles that have been put upon you. Today, you are having surgery, and I have every confidence that you will do great, and probably even suprise the doctors with how well you do! It will take some fighting and battling to get back to where you need to be, but I know that you can do it. I know that visions of the little ones laughing and dancing while they do performances with your cane as the microphone, or thoughts of the little guy riding all around on his bike wearing your glasses, or sitting with your granddaughter listening to Patsy Cline or Grandpa Jones and talking about “back then”, or spending time with your daughters and laughing and talking about family memories and traditions, these are all very real reasons to get better.

Yes, I am a grown woman now, and a wife and a mother, but I am still the same little girl that admires you. That cherishes your stories, loves seeing you laugh so hard that you have to take off your glasses and wipe your eyes, and treasures the moments that my kids are cuddling next to you, listening to your stories. There are so many more memories to make, Papa. I know that you can do this, because you are  a hero to me, and a man with immeasurable strength. You have so much love around you, from your daughters, your siblings, to your grandchildren, and your great-grandchildren. There are more stories to be told, more dolls and toys to fix, more performances in little princess shoes on a tile floor to watch, more hugs to share, and more laughter to be had. I look forward to many more cherished memories with you.

With so much love, from a Granddaughter that is so blessed to have you as her Papa,

Kristin Noel