Mother’s Day & 391 Days…

I turned my phone on this morning after starting the morning coffee and firing up the CPU. Get some blues playing while waiting for the phone to boot-up its own little, internal CPU. First text of the day: “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!” My son remembered, and it makes me smile. He always remembers my birthday, but he would only remember Mother’s Day when he was still a little guy in elementary school – I think this is the first time he’s remembered since his “teens-ages.” We mothers know that once puberty hits, our children don’t seem to revere us as goddesses with the powers to slay the monster under the bed. No, sons begin to put other females above the one who gave them life. Daughters roll their eyes and sigh dramatically at their mothers, who just have NO idea what it’s like to be cool, “hawt,” and everything in-between. They rush ahead at the mall, not wanting to be seen with “dowdy, frumpy ol’ mum” – especially if said mum is doing the wrong thing by trying to wear what her daughters are wearing. Admit it – we have all seen examples of that, and sometimes it ain’t pretty!

Motherhood isn’t easy; many of us know and accept that it is a mostly thankless job. Some women aren’t equipped to be mothers at all, while the majority of us give it our best shot and hope that our chicks can fly when we boot them from the nest. Some can’t cut the apron-strings and end up mothering their own nieces, nephews, and/or grandchildren. Some are wonderful, some are a downright pain, and some are horribly abusive.

Calling some women “mothers” is being overly generous – Susan Smith and Andrea Yates, for example. I was adopted and raised by a “Mommie Dearest-type,” yet am fortunate to have been reunited with my birth mother – and having her in my life is fantastic. I have her height, her laugh, her smile, and her love for all types of music.

We weep tears of pain in the middle of the night, at the end of a hard day. We weep tears of joy as our hearts swell with pride when our children take that first, tentative step and watch those faltering steps become strides of confidence. We weep as we mourn the untimely death of a child, taken far too soon. Motherhood is certainly filled with pain; childbirth is usually our first inkling of how painful it can be.

The girls from Chibok, Nigeria surely know this as well, since some of them are now mothers, themselves – and they did not ask to be. They love and care for their children and are trying to make the best of a truly horrific situation. Motherhood is sometimes thrust upon girls and women before they are ready, through no fault of their own.

Still, in the middle of heartache, tragedy, and pain we mothers endure. We put up with a lot. Hearing a genuine “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!” from your child makes it all worthwhile.

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