Ah, Mother’s Day. The only federally mandated holiday that I
can totally get behind. I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day or Flag Day
and it seems that every morning on the Channel 4 News there is a new
“holiday”. National Grilled Cheese Day, National Chocolate Day,
National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day – why is it always food that is
celebrated? Not knocking grilled cheese, just saying there are more
important issues in the world.
Like today. Today, of all days, to me, on so many levels, is
a really important one. Not just because I am a mother and feel the need
to get a manicure and not feel guilty about it. Not just because I have a
mother and she feels the need to make me feel guilty if I don’t send a
card. But because, damit, I’ve earned it. All mothers
have.
Ya know what? I should be thanked for going through nineteen
hours of labor and then squeezing out a person from a hole that really isn't big
enough for that. I should be thanked for getting pooped on and peed on
and for kissing boo-boos and making ouchies and fevers all better. For
diligently trying to catch vomit with my hands. For being
there for the first time they walked, the first time they read, the first time
they hit a baseball and made it to third base. For checking the closet
for monsters, for nightmares and for being woken up at 4am because they needed
to snuggle. For being Megatron to their Autobots, for watching them
battle in the backyard knowing full well that someone will end up crying five
minutes later. For giggles and silliness and making all of their
stuffed animals have conversations with them. For making lunches for
school every freakin day of the week and sneaking veggies into their dinners
every freakin night of the week. For singing Puff the Magic Dragon and Dream a Little Dream seven times in a row, in one
night. For trying so hard to do 4th grade math and giving up but finding
someone who can figure that crap out. For watching every episode of
Pokémon. Twice. For teaching them that boys who can communicate
their feeling are just as cool as boys who have awesome scars. And my
boys have both.
But the funny thing is, is that none of us, moms I mean, never
think we actually need to be thanked except for once a year when pictures are
drawn and flowers are cut out from tissue paper and homemade cards are made and
extra hugs are given and the phrase, “you get to pick the movie tonight, mommy”
is said even though they secretly know you will still let them pick the
movie. I love this day. I live for this little extra bit of thank
you.
The thing is, we don't really need to be
celebrated. We know that this “job” we have is what we have chosen and we
love every minute of it. Well, most minutes of it. We know that we
are the anchor parent, the one that is there, especially the single mommies who
do it mostly on our own. All of the sacrifices and sleepless nights are
totally worth it; not just on this one day of the year, but every day of every
season. Personally, I would legally change my name to Mommy if I could.
Yah, I know, that would be weird.
Then, of course, I look at my sister whose children are teenagers.
Dealing with teenagers, well, I get paid to do that. I look at my
10th grade students
and think two things: 1) thank goodness I don't have girls and
2) please, dear god, don't let my children turn into teenagers.
Let them just stay seven and nine, all small and cute and innocent. Oh
crap, they will be teens soon. This blog will take on a whole new meaning
when that happens. Seriously, it is my job to turn them into good
men. Magnificent, attentive, non-asshole men all by myself and then just
hope for the best. Let go, let god.
Oh goody, the control freak will then be forced to relinquish control.
Kill me. Just kill me now. I am not sure how my sister does it. And
the funny thing is, she has no idea how
I do it either.
My youngest son drew this picture of me for my Mother's Day gift
and gave it to me on Friday. As he put it, it was me “teaching my
students and reading him books and all of students got the right answer on the
test”. He painted me with the biggest smile and with my
"teacher" glasses on, and I love so much how he sees me. That
my smile translates into who I am. That my smile validates him which
validates me so much more than any job or man or anything ever could. Or
will. That to me is Mother’s Day. That to me is all I need today.
I don't have my children until the afternoon today
because they are at their dad’s, so we will celebrate today when they get home
with swimming in the sunshine and a movie that I get to pick. I think I
will choose Captain America, so at least I get to stare at
Chris Evans. At least got to sleep in on this lovely Sunday morning and
be spoiled by someone who has no connection to my motherhood. He just
wants to celebrate me and I am alright with that. Yep, this tired mommy
could use a little pampering and I know just the wonderful man to do it.
So, to all of my amazing mommy friends, and I must say, I do have
the most incredible collection of mommy friends who support each other like
sisters; and to my sister who is finishing grad school while raising teenagers
with the assistance of a great deal of Tylenol, and to my mother who
taught me the right way to be a mother (and yes, I still seek her advice, because
she is usually right) – to all of you and all of my facebook mommies and the
mommies who actually have missed reading my blog -- Happy Mother’s Day.
Yes, tomorrow it is back to the same old shit, so enjoy your day.
