I Am The Backpack Parent

“An open letter to my children:

I am the backpack of the family.

I carry all of your things, while you run towards your friends.

I hold all of your jackets, toys, and food.

I am your silent cheerleader.

I make sure my hands are full, so yours are free to do what you love.

You may not see me much, as I am often in the background at birthday parties, barbeques, and dinners.

I am the one holding your jacket, so you can wear your dress.

I am the one holding your plates full of food, while you pick over what you actually want to eat.

I am the one sitting down last at dinner, because I need to make sure your dinner plate is full, first.

I carry a lot.

Physically, and mentally.

I am the one who carries your belongings, but I also carry your problems.

I am the one who you come running to when you get a boo-boo.

I am the one who listens to all of your worries, and helps you solve them.

I am the one who may not be the most patient during the day, but I promise when you’re sleeping, I always stroke your face, and tell you, ‘I’m sorry, I love you.’

I am the one who sits silently on the couch watching you play, while I fold your laundry. I know it seems like I’m not wanting to play with you, but I do.

I am the one who you think gets upset at you a lot, but it’s only because I love you. And I feel overwhelmed sometimes with all that I am carrying.

I am the backpack of my family.

It’s not an easy job, and it’s a job that you don’t really see, but I wouldn’t want to be anything else.

I love being your safe place.

I love being your backpack.

Put it all on me. Physically and mentally.

Love, your mom.

The backpack parent.”

mom and child playing at arcade — Courtesy of Caitlin Fladager

This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Caitlin Fladager. You can follow her journey on Facebook and Instagram. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories.