Ya’ll…I have not even scratched the surface of motherhood and the sacrifices, anxiety, fear, love, and pure joy that it entails. Raising two daughters has my stomach in all sorts of knots. So often I find myself awake in the middle of the night thinking about their future, the troubles they will inevitably have, and how the hell we are going to guide them without being overbearing. I have POTENTIAL conversations with myself…that’s right…potential. Meaning, I am making up scenarios in my head and planning what to say to 16 year old Charlotte when she’s giving us the silent treatment for taking her phone away.

But let’s be raw. If you’re anything like me, you know that nothing can prepare you for what COULD BE in the future of parenthood. I’d like to believe that I was not too terrible a teen, but I know I put my parents through the wringer more than once. I’m not speaking of those careless (and sometimes overly dramatic) childhood experiences that led to a quick trip to the ER, or the sleep deprivation every parent endures with a newborn. No. I am talking about the pure shit choices that I made as a young girl that probably made my parents want to give me back to God and say “I literally can’t right now.”

I can’t speak for every mama, but I feel like most would agree that we have all already had a moment (or 10,000) when we want to hug our parents tight and apologize. I have had so many…even before I became a mother. I don’t regret much from my past, but I can say with certainty that I can’t boast about how I treated my parents as a teenager. When I do think back on it, I seriously wish I could slap 17 year old Anna and tell her “STFU, you dumb child. You don’t understand how much they love you. You can’t see that they really are not being annoying or intrusive.” But we all know that even if Our Savior Himself came down in his truest form and spoke those exact words, a teenage girl wouldn’t listen. I was stubborn. I was annoying AF. I was struggling to find myself. I was unhappy and confused about life as a teenager. I was insecure. I was all the things that every girl goes through in high school. I was an unapologetic teenage girl, which was twice as bad because saying sorry even when you’re heart is right can be difficult! Truthfully, I was way too proud for someone who wasn’t even confident enough to know what to be proud of.

Right now, the most aggravating parts of parenting for me are not knowing how to get Charlotte to stop throwing her food…or how to get Lexi to learn to stay asleep without her Love To Dream Swaddle Up. I mean…I’m currently typing as quietly as I can while my 7 month old sleeps next to my thigh because she can’t bare the sight of me walking away. SERIOUSLY…we’ve got a loooooooong and winding road ahead of us, people! But understanding this means that I have reflected on the past, and realized things along the way that my convoluted, teen-aged self was too vacuous to comprehend. You can’t take anything back, but it’s never too late to say sorry. You’re wrong, Bieber.

3 Things My Teen Self Is Sorry For, And How It’s Shaping Me As A Parent

1. I am sorry for not trying my best in school.

   Holy Shit Can Sam…this is a big one.

   I grew up wanting for nothing. I think the only thing on my Christmas and birthday wish-lists that my parents couldn’t give me was “laughing dust.” I wanted to be funny…it was a thing. Anyway…my point is that, as an adult, I see things differently now (or I just flat out SEE THINGS) that I didn’t when I was a teenager. My parents wanted us to have anything that would help us and teach us to work hard for what we wanted in life. Education was one of those things. Unfortunately, it was something I took for granted.

   I attended St. Agnes Academy, an all-girl private high school. If I could change any part of my past, it would be the lack of effort that I put in to my education between the ages of 14 and 20. Woah. As I SLOWLY (like…snails pace) entered adulthood, I grew to appreciate the things that my parents were doing. And these were organic things…some things they HAD to do, and some things they chose.

   My mom stayed at home for a little while, and then had to go back to work. I watched my mom work her way up to owning her own business…without a degree…because she’s a boss, she’s very smart, and she knows what it means to work hard. I watched my dad take the reigns of his company, coach high school football and baseball, and go back to college while maintaining his role as the patriarch of the family. I know that no parents are perfect…and a lot try to be. I know that my parents reflect and possibly would have done things differently given the chance. But becoming a parent has taught me to live in the now and deal with situations as they come, and to the best of my ability. My parents did exactly that. How frustrating it must have been for them to watch me skate by in high school, or not finish out four years at Texas Tech…or Blinn.

   My parents taught me what it means to be patient with your kids. That’s not to say that they didn’t get impatient in previously mentioned situations. I’m talking long term. They never gave up on me. They never stopped believing in me. My choices were dumb, but they saw things in me that I wasn’t yet seeing in myself. Their support was and still is never ending. I will be that parent.

2. I am sorry for boys.

   What in God’s name am I going to do when my girls start having freakin’ boyfriends?! How in all that is Holy did my parents get through this part of my teenage years without killing me? I mean…talk about an anxiously driven roller coaster ride. I was such an insecure little sheep…and of course looking back, I shouldn’t have been. I don’t think anything creates or causes that. I have a dad who loves and adores his wife, who loves him right back. I didn’t grow up with bad examples of what love looks like or sounds like.

   There’s a part of our hearts that’s only fueled by the love we have for ourselves. For some reason, like many other teens, we start to believe that it’s only possible for us to love ourselves if someone else loves us. But we all know it’s the other way around. I didn’t learn to love myself first. And I also didn’t talk about it. Any of it. Because I was annoying and arrogant. I made very poor choices with boys because…I don’t know why. Maybe I enjoyed the drama? I definitely didn’t like the feeling of getting hurt. Maybe I chose to be with boys that I felt like I could fix? Regardless of the reason, none of it is anyone else’s fault. Especially my parents.

   I stumbled upon these letters that my parents wrote to me before I left for Texas Tech, and let me tell ya…the boy situation was so on fire. Your standard toxic relationship. In the midst of it all, and even in my bitchiest moments, my parents wrote me a letter just reminding me how much they love me.

   My parents saw and loved me the way I needed to see and love myself. And they literally have never stopped. After moving home from Lubbock, and ending a bad relationship…I decided to pursue nursing at Blinn College. My faithful parents obliged. Their hopes were just as high for me as they were the year before. I spent one semester at Blinn. I met some people. I met a guy. I got pregnant. I moved home. I’m not kidding…I think my life between the ages of 17 and 21 has already been made into a Lifetime Movie Network movie.

   I had to tell my parents. The Sunday after Thanksgiving, I sat on their bed…sobbing. I waited for them to come to me…partly terrified, partly stubborn. The first question they asked was “Is it Kaleb?” (an ex boyfriend). I said no. The very next question, from my dad… “are you pregnant?” The fact that that was his second question speaks for itself. They loved me through it. They both hugged me. They both told me how much love me. My mom admitted that even though she wanted to wring my neck, she’ll never stop loving me. They both told me that it was going to be okay…and it was. Their compassion never died. I will be that parent.

3. I am sorry for not SHOWING you that I was listening.

   You know the type. The teenager who thinks she knows everything. The girl who rolls her eyes and looks like a dumbass. The girl who stares out the window with her arms crossed, refusing to say more the 10 words to her parents. The girl who thinks her parents are stupid and “don’t know shit about shit.” I was that girl. On the surface, I was cross and pretended like everything I was told was bogus. Naturally, my parents believed I didn’t adhere to any advice because….I mean look at the choices I’ve made.

   The truth is…I was listening. I can’t explain why I exerted so much of my energy towards being an angry brat. And I can’t explain why I felt the need to be rebellious. Now, I’m a parent. I am a mom of two baby girls who won’t stay babies forever. I have it coming. I’m aware. But I can say with confidence that I was listening well enough to know how to love my daughters. My parents got angry, but their words weren’t hurtful. They were helpful and nothing less than what I needed to hear.

   My parents’ faith in me never faltered. They never stopped giving their advice, because they never stopped caring. I will be that parent.