They say women love shopping – somehow it soothes the soul. I guess that’s why Steph went shopping for more kids in the first place. Kevin, you never have been one to spend all afternoon at the mall, so I can see why you weren’t exactly sold on us at first. 2 more mouths to feed, countless more arguments to moderate, another room to remodel, exponentially more high school drama to deal with, and two more college degrees to fund – no wonder you grayed so fast! 🙂 Though there never really is an opportune moment to bring two diamond-in-the-rough teenagers into your home, I’m so grateful that you opened your family to ours.
On your anniversary this year, I wanted to write you a thank you letter. Here you have somewhat-tangible e-proof that you did a good job. You are good parents, you are good people, and you are appreciated.
Thank you for dealing with our teen angst right from the start of our parent-child relationship. Unfortunately you didn’t get to bond with our chubby baby leg rolls and disproportionate baby cheeks that make the stress of later years more bearable – you were tossed right into the frying pan with our hormones blazing and puberty underway.
Thank you for taking the time from your busy careers in starting a new restaurant and being promoted from Lieutenant to Major (and transferring from Pontiac to Dwight and back) to run us to and from school and sporting events and nerdy scholastic bowl practice. Thank you for stopping your morning that day in 2008 to watch me lose the Spelling Bee on the word “precipice”.
Thank you for waking up to make us breakfast in the morning on school days and on the weekends.
Thank you for taking in the stray cats that your stray children snuck into your empty garage, and thank you for holding us as we dealt with the pain of our first pet loss. RIP Zoe and Zeta!
Thank you for still answering the phone, even though you never know what we’ll say when you pick up. We may be blaming you for something that’s somehow “your fault” even though you explicitly remember advising the inverse of our actions and you’re holding back the “I told you so” on the tip of your tongue. We may be sobbing profusely because we accidentally backed ourselves ONTO the garage. We may be calling to apologize for months of our absence. And if you’re lucky, we may just be calling to chat and say we love you.
Thank you for editing my college scholarship essay, even though I somehow still submitted it with the phrase, “My mother led an erotic lifestyle” instead of “eratic” lifestyle. And thank you for sitting in the biting cold four years later to watch me sprint off the stage at my college graduation.
Thank you for the birthday gifts every year, for the Christmas presents, Thanksgiving meals, Easter baskets, Memorial Day vacations, and the God-forsaken Disney trip.
Thank you for working your asses off to support our big family financially and for being so, so patient so that you could support us emotionally.
Thank you for giving us the lives that every child deserves, and for never giving up. Thank you for teaching me how to keep a promise, how to love unconditionally, and how to be a parent.
I Love You Both To Illinois And Back.