Letter to Daughter XV

C,

Thank goodness you are not having to compete in this race of celebrating Mother's Day in the name of Facebook posts. For that, I hereby introduce you your first slang -- MOFO. And please know on this day, as usual as the rest of our days, that whenever you are mad at me, you can scream MOFO. I wouldn't mind. Motherhood is over-rated. There is this bond which is biologically bound to love and there is that beyond biology. I mean, as your Momie, why do I write to you? Years later you would be calling me a weirdo. But I would still be loving you.

These "Days" are so powerfully pitiful, overwhelmingly boring and threateningly over-rated. I am sure you have understood nothing. So go ahead and say "MOFO". It wouldn't mean you are demeaning me. You are just my little one repeating a slang taught by her Momie. I will take the blame, I promise. Because when anyone shouts at me at what I have done, I would give it back to them that it is your choice to pick up, or discard, what you are taught.

To love me, you have to hate me. To laugh with me, you must fight. To live your life, you must leave. And that, my little C, would make me happiest. I do not need your FB post declaring I am the world's best mother, but it would be great if you would call me from far off Warsaw someday, when you are young and I am older, to say how it feels like to be there.

My darling, I have chosen to live with you, love you and not bring you to this world. Forgive me for that. But should I do, you are on your own. You will be loved anyway, near or far away. Would you be able to deal with a hippie of this Momie? Even if she can't promise that she will remember to wish you on your birthday, I swear, Momie will give ask you about the local liquor in the land you live. 

You have made my life by not reducing it to 'a' day. Thanks, honey.

Momie.