This won’t make me popular, but I admit that I don’t like Mother’s Day. I believe it is a set-up for disappointment, and I say that only because if you are hoping one day in May will make you feel appreciated for living the role of a mother, you are already delusional. One day on the calendar won’t give you what you need. In fact nobody will and that’s the whole point: motherhood has to be enough.
Oh, I know that sounds cynical, but hear me out.
If you hold on to special events and big gestures that only happen when circled on the calendar you plastered to the fridge and then highlighted, so the family would have no legitimate excuse to say they didn’t know that yes, May 12 is Mother’s Day this year, then you are already disappointed.
Sure, you have succeeded in creating the guilt instilled in you by the very power of motherhood to subject your family to holiday gift-giving demands. I applaud you for that. Let the gifts flow in. But somewhere deep in that mother’s intuition that you cannot deny or ignore, you realize that being a mother isn’t really about rewards, at least not those that come with a price tag and big bows. It’s going to sound cliché, but it is my maternal right to point out the obvious: every day is Mother’s Day.
Yes, it is the gift that keeps on giving, even when it feels like a gift you would like to return. It’s not always fun, nor is it easy. It’s okay to occasionally want to trade lives with your friends who chose dogs over children, and live vicariously through those friends when they vacation to Europe while you stare at a calculator trying to negotiate payments for Disney World and whether or not to take the meal plan. Yep. It’s okay.
Just like it is perfectly normal to lock yourself in the bathroom to have a mental health break while junior throws a nuclear temper tantrum on the other side of the door. Sometimes, you will consider running away, only to realize that as angry and frustrated as you are, you are deeply, honestly in love with the tyrant who is making you crazy. If you are as lucky as I am, you love them even more because they have their father’s eyes, and you can’t think of anything more beautiful than looking into them. Basically, you are rooked and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
There are perfect moments too. It’s awesome to watch when your daughter falls off a horse for the first time, because you know she’s just learned a valuable life lesson to get up, dust off and try again. Or when your son gets crosschecked in his sport and doesn’t retaliate, not because he isn’t angry, but because he knows better than to cost his team a penalty. You sacrificed a lot to get them there, but more importantly, you let them go to learn about life instead of sheltering them. Your reward is being there to see it. Never forget that. Their reward comes in knowing that you love them, win or lose. Remember that too.
There are no guarantees for who or how your children will be in the world. There is only the fullness of the love you pour into them, the foundation of home in their hearts. That’s it … but that is everything.