Mother’s Day
It’s Mother’s Day. My favorite day of the year. The day when I get to make all the rules and nobody in this house can oppose my wishes. It’s a glorious day indeed! “Pick up your toys!” sure thing Mommy. “Put away your laundry!” My pleasure. “Empty the dishwasher!” Absolutely Mommy. Ahhh, the sounds of sweet compliance.
As I lay awake in my bed at 5:45am, I find myself in this delusional state halfway between a dream and reality. My mind races to a million places as I fantasize the potential of my day, and I quietly chuckle to myself. Because I know that in the universe in which I live, this zen reality of royal treatment will not be my day. Annnnd…I’m up!
It’s now 6:42am and the sun is out and birds are chirping. I look out the living room window and admire the peaceful street and the quiet houses that hold the beds of my sleeping neighbors. I find myself getting lost in the dreaminess of it all and my heart swells. This is my day.
As I sit at the sun kissed table with my dog at my feet, the stream of consciousness begins to flow. Thoughts about my girls and the infinite love I have for them. Thoughts about my own Mom and how fortunate I am that she will be joining us for a poolside brunch this morning. Thoughts about my mother-in-law, my aunts, and all the incredible women who have helped to make me the person and mother I am today. I continue in my thoughts, and I find myself thinking of my Grandma, the only one I ever knew, and how much this day must hurt for my own mom who is missing hers. There are so many emotions I can hardly contain the tears from welling up in my eyes. And then, from around the corner, the most beautiful little 8-year old girl appears. I look up from my screen and am met with the widest, most cheery-eyed smile as she looks at me and says, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!” The excitement in her voice is authentic, and her eyes are dancing with happiness. In this moment, I am overwhelmed with heartfelt gratitude. This is my day.
A few minutes later she comes back, only this time in tears. The card she made for my mom got wet and the colors faded and ran. I looked at the note and assessed the situation. The note read, “Dear Grammy. I love you so much. Without you, I never would have met Mommy.” I melted.
The note said it all and it came straight from her heart. These two sentences written in 2nd grade cursive opened my eyes and made me rethink what this day is really about.
It’s not about just me. It’s so much more than that. It’s about lineage. It’s about family values. It’s about the love that has been passed down from generation to generation and how that love has shaped me. And it has shaped me bigtime. Because of this love, I know how to love.
I know the importance of listening to never-ending stories filled with excitement and adventure. I know the feeling of nighttime snuggles and bedtime songs. I know the excitement of a note from the Tooth Fairy. And I know the soul touching feel of butterfly kisses.
I know how to be a mom because of all the amazing examples who showed me how since the day I was born.
It was not my intention for this morning to play out like it has thus far, but I’m surely thankful that it has. Who would have thought that an 8-year old could impart so much wisdom? This sweet soul was able to piece together the meaning of this day in a way that I had overlooked, and I am a better person for it.
So now, as I reflect upon the day that will begin shortly, I have a new outlook. This day is not even a little bit “my day.” It is our day. It’s a day where we celebrate every mother who has graced this earth. It’s a day that brings great joy and sometimes great sadness. It’s a day when I am thankful beyond measure for my daughters, and it’s a day that I am thankful for my own Mommy. It’s a day that I want to grab hold of my friends whose moms are not here with them and hug them until the hurt goes away. It’s a day of reflection, a day of gratitude, and more than anything, a day of love.
It is now 8:03am, and my alarm goes off in 60 seconds. The youngest is now awake, extremely hungry, and unable to open her own banana. She and my middle have already began fighting about who is wearing which outfit and why a size 8 will look “stupid” on her. The oldest is still still sleeping, of course, and her room still looks like the laundry basket vomited all over it. My husband is snoring away, and I just found dog poop in the sun room. This, my friends, is my day. In all it’s glory and disaster, it is mine, and I am thankful beyond measure.
But this day, our day, would have never been possible without the Mothers before us.
Wishing all of the Moms out there a Happy Mother’s Day filled with generations of love.
