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Mom, Mom, Mom, MOMMMY
It’s Mother’s Day, as I write this column. I don’t know about all you mothers out there, but it sort of feels like an ordinary Sunday, if you get my drift. I got up. I had a coffee, or two. I watched CBS Sunday Morning. I ate toast. I started to write this column. Those are the things I usually do on a Sunday. But today is Mother’s Day! Our second Mother’s Day celebration during The Pandemic. Without getting all sappy and sentimental, I’m going to try to put my feelings about being a mother into words. So, here it goes.
Without pointing a figure at any one of my children, I can hardly start this trip down memory lane without saying, “If you’re reading this and thinking about becoming a Mom, the job doesn’t stop the day the kids move out.” Nope. It does not. All of our children have moved out, for the most part. In some ways, getting your children out on their own is just the beginning of a new kind of “mothering”. Sometimes the new kind of mothering is as simple as a text, a call or an email from one of them, asking for a recipe. The recipe request is the beginning of the end of the kitchen magic. The day you tell your adult kid the secret sauce on top of the meatloaf was simply a mix of a big, farty squirt ketchup, a big spoon of brown sugar and a shake or three of Worcestershire sauce is the day they begin to wonder about your worth as a cook and a mother. The kiddo who asked for the meatloaf sauce recipe actually laughed out loud when I gave the down-low. Don’t get me started on the stuffing for the turkey. Let’s just say they all asked about that one and all were gobsmacked by the “recipe”. I scoffed and said, “Come on! Y’all saw the Stove Top boxes in the recycling bin. Don’t act surprised.” Sometimes, when your kids grow up and move out, some of your furniture disappears and reappears in their new situation. Seriously, if a kid leaves the nest shouldn’t the nesting material still be in place? As old as I am now, I suppose I should look at the disappearing furniture as a push in the downsizing direction. But why didn’t they take their yearbooks, report cards, the 700 ball caps, the fourteen Barbies, the comic books and baseball cards? Once in a while a kiddo gets in touch because their life isn’t the romance novel they thought it was going to be. It’s happened, once or twice. More than once I’ve had to cram my arse into my serious Parent Pants and help them pick up all the pieces. Once or twice, after they’ve “left for good”, they haven’t really and they come home. Being a parent is always being part of the home your kids come home to when the going gets too tough or they’re between moves or they’re on the move.
I’ve felt all of the feelings as a parent. Not one book, anywhere, ever spelled out how the parental feelings are far more intense than all of the other genres of feelings. I’ve never been as overwhelmed with love as I have been as a parent. I’ve never been as red-faced with embarrassment as I have been as a parent. I’ve never been as dumbstruck as I have been as a parent. I’ve never been as proud as I have been as a parent. I’ve never been as blessed as I am as a parent.
Today, I send out all of the emotions to all of the Mothers, and Mothering types, I know and love. I wish you all the love, all of the laughs, all of the pride, all of the hugs and all of the peacefulness a Mom deserves. I wish you a cup of coffee, while it’s still hot. I wish you a complete meal, without interruptions, while sitting at a table. I wish you a toilet break without the assistance of a toddler who might be ready to help you wipe or flush or keep you company. I wish you a full night’s sleep, in your own bed without a soggy, snotty, sobbing child’s foot in your kidney. I wish you a clean shirt—one without boogers, barf, jam, breast milk stains or peanut butter on it. I wish you a handbag without a rescue pack of wet wipes, baggies with dry cereal, Hot Wheels, soothers, sippy cups and stuffies. I wish you a glass of wine in a real wine glass without worrying about having a headache in the morning. I wish you all of the warm, sweet hugs—the real “I love you Mom” hugs. I wish you the overwhelming love of having a person who only has eyes for you.
I send massive love to all of the wonderful children in my life. You made me a “Mom, Mom, Mom, MOMMMY”. Without conditions, you are my world of wonder.
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