I appreciate Mother's Day in an entirely different way now that I am a mom.
That is a pretty obvious statement, but my appreciation is a bit different than you might think.
Yes, I appreciate the homemade cards and crafts that are so adorably made at preschool or at my own kitchen table more than my little boys will ever know, and just the thought of possibly eating a meal at home where I didn't have to cook or clean or prep or care is more than I could ever want.
But my motherly appreciation for Mother's Day is not of what I receive tomorrow or whatever we may do. And while my appreciation is also for all of the moms who are out their doing their mom thing, all of the moms who have struggled struggles that the world may never know and for all of the moms who have been doing this FAR longer than I...the true appreciation I have for Mother's Day is much more simple than all of that.
My appreciation on Mother's Day is simply for my mom.
Sure, my mom has been the subject of this day for me since I was born.
She is my mom, this is her day and it's really not that hard to figure out.
But it wasn't until I became a mom that I really realized just why she deserves this day, and a lot more credit and appreciation than she ever ever received (from me anyway).
My mom never really asked for anything.
She put us in every sport or activity that we ever wanted to be in, she spent hours and hours schlepping us around from field to studio and sat and watched our practices and rehearsals and games for hours that probably would actually calculate into years.
She made everything important.
She made the smallest of holidays feel special and decorated our rooms while we were sleeping every year for our birthdays. She started traditions that we still have to this day and that she does now for my kids and she did all of these things while still making sure we knew the real reason why we were celebrating.
It was always about us.
She helped us with our homework, asked about our days, went to every school function and volunteered in our classrooms.
She always made what we were doing the most important thing.
It was never about her.
She let us choose the paths we wanted without her guidance ever being forceful, she taught us the importance of gratitude and generosity and she was always the first person there when what we hoped for didn't happen or when our feelings got hurt.
She was never too busy.
I'm sure there were times when she had to tell us to "hold on" or "not right now," but I don't remember those times. I don't ever remember her being too busy. I don't ever remember her not being able to fit us (and whatever we were doing) in because it never ever ever felt like she was fitting us in...at all.
She always knew what to do.
She was my calm in the storm when I went into labor for the first time and when I feared my c-section with every fiber of my being. She was there with me and Ben every single time I took him to immediate care in the middle of the night and she was the one sleeping on my couch on our second night home from the hospital with our brand new baby because she knew I needed to sleep.
She has never ever stopped being a mom.
When my first son was a couple of months old, I wrote him a letter and in that letter I pointed out that as soon as he was born, my mom, who at points in my life knew nothing at all...suddenly knew every answer to every question that I could ever ask.
Of course, she always had the answers...I just didn't know how much I needed them until it was my turn to come up with my own answers.
She was always right.
A week or two ago, back when I was in the middle of my 3 week stint of horrible news, complete exhaustion and backlog of bills, correspondence and birthday party planning, my mom sent me a text and asked me to call her just to chat after the boys went to bed.
Had it been a friend who had asked me to call, I probably wouldn't have followed through that night because I was no longer able to lie and say "I'm doing good!" when anyone asked the question.
But my mom didn't ask because my mom knew.
I talked to her for an hour that night. The topics were mostly TV shows and other random stuff that I don't even remember and it was everything I needed.
That's the thing about my mom.
She is always exactly what I need.
I sit here now, as a mom of two, and wonder how she did it.
I drive home from work on a t-ball game night and I'm so consumed with trying to figure out what we are going to have for dinner, if they are going to have time for baths, if I remembered to charge my camera, when we were going to fit in homework, how I was ever going to get a workout in ever again that I don't even remember driving to my moms to pick up the boys once I get there.
It is just the beginning for me and there are already days when I can hardly breathe.
I have one kid who is in one sport and one kid who I just tote around with me to games and practices.
She had three kids in however many sports or activities that we wanted to be in and she seemed fine.
The thing about my mom is that she raised me honestly enough for me to be able to sit here on my sane days and know that she wasn't always fine.
Not only was it not always easy...it was rarely easy.
The thing about my mom is that I didn't realize that until I needed to realize that.
She never shielded us from her emotions, yet she never made us feel like we were a burden. We knew when she was stressed out but she never made us feel like we were to blame. She has worn the worries and burdens and panic that I wear now for 27 more years than I have and I never even knew....and because of that, I know I am going to be okay.
Being a mom is not easy.
It is watching a piece of your heart run away from you on the sidewalk holding a huge stick and praying to God that that stick does not rupture and eye before you can catch up to it.
It is trying to find a balance on a completely unbalanced scale.
It is worrying for the rest of your life even when you are calm.
It is knowing when to expose the harsh realities of the world and when to be the shield.
It is wearing every hurt of every member of your family longer than they will ever know.
I strive to be to my kids what my mom was to us and still is to me.
I pray with everything that I have, that 30 years from now, when my kids are doing their own parenting thing, they look back and want for their kids what I gave to them.
I have always said that if I could be half of the mom to my kids that my mom was to me, I would be the happiest mom in the world, but I think I might not be giving her enough credit there.
As the time (quickly) passes by, I realize that I'd be happier than happy if I ended up being 1/4 as good as her.
She deserves every ounce of respect from me every day of every year, but she doesn't always get to hear me say thank you because I don't always say it.
So Mom, while you are reading this (and watching my kids for the night) please know this...
No single day, no single blog, no single card or hug or happy tear could ever be enough because there are not enough days, words, cards, hugs or thankful tears in this world to truly let you know how much you mean to me.
Thank you for giving me something to strive for and someone to want to be.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
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