Here's a toast

I've had my moments of childish fits, of teenage rebellion, of know-it-all comments.

I’ve had bad days, bad weeks, and after looking at photographic evidence from when I was thirteen, I now have quantifiable proof that I’ve even had bad years.

I’ve told stupid lies, I’ve broken expensive things, and I’ve made some moderately significant mistakes.

And yet my parents never dropped me off at some obscure hospital in Nebraska, only to drive off into distant cornfields without their pain-in-the-ass first-born.

It's fair to say I never fully appreciated my irreplaceable parental units until I found myself without them.

Of course I miss my mom's delightful cooking and her awe-inspiring laundry expertise, but mostly I miss drinking tea together after a long day. Kisses on the cheek that I, of course, have to wipe off in feigned disgust. Lazily reading side by side in bed on Saturday mornings when chores get postponed for a few hours.

Sure, I miss my dad's mad skills as my own personal taxi cab driver and his occasional monetary additions to my purse, but mostly I miss laughing at stupid puns that shouldn't be funny. Big hugs when nothing's right and everything's wrong. His ability to make sense of my hysterical ramblings during any one of our long discussions.

My parents say that every sacrifice they made for my sister and I was worth it. And I say that every one of those sacrifices means more to us than they will ever know.

So here's a non-alcoholic toast to two incredible parents. I love you.

P.S. Mom, I know that you've been commenting on my blog under an alternate identity. You're not sneaky :)