I appreciate Mother’s Day. It’s lovely to reflect on our mothers, and on motherhood. But really, one day does not cover it. Motherhood is time-consuming and all-consuming. There are no breaks, no time off, no slow days, and no vacations. Once a mother, you are always a mother, from the inside out, awake or asleep, with or without your kids. It never leaves you. You don’t want it to.
Gifts? Flowers? Brunch? Forget it. I got home-made cards this morning, a sink full of dishes, and fidgeting in church. And I LOVED it.
I labored for three days with Silas. James kicked me awake from my sleep for the last five months of my pregnancy. I’ve been peed on, spit up on, licked, bitten, thrown up all over, and gotten poop under my fingernails. I broke my toe on James’s bouncy chair. I’ve been poked and prodded. I’ve learned to make do without privacy.
I’ve cried out in frustration to Jayson, insisting that I need a break and begging him to take me away somewhere, only to blubber before we’re at the end of the street that I already miss the boys. My brain never shuts down on what the next meal will be or what they’ll wear tomorrow. How to entertain them. How to teach them. How to model good behavior for them. How to protect them from the evils of this world.
I love being a mother, with all the crap – literal and figurative – that comes with it. And I don’t need a sappy holiday to remind me of that. But I will forever treasure the cards their sticky little hands designed – “Happy Muthrs Day. I luve you!” I love you, too, Silas and James. And I always will.
OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.