I think I must becoming cynical in my old age, cause this year I am a bit ‘meh’ about mothers day.
And to be honest, I think I’ve been getting this way every since the very first one where I was actually excited to be a mother for the first time ever.
It’s not for the usual reasons; you know the ones where we mums complain that what’s the point of having a day dedicated to us, when we still have to do everything anyway. That’s just fairly stock standard, and part of life. I’m ok with that.
I think it’s just the idea of having a day that I honestly feel should be celebrated every day. Couldn’t every day be mothers day?
I remember when I was a kid, asking my mum why Dad’s got a day, and Mum’s got a day, but we kids missed out. She just laughed and said that every day was kids day.
She has a point.
But I think the same can be said for the others too.
What is being a mother all about? What does the day actually celebrate? Is it just an opportunity for us to stop and thank our mums for what they do? A moment when we fork over $5 so the kids can buy us some random product from the school’s craft fair, that, in all honesty, we will probably never use, or already have. (Although one year, I did get a fairly awesome lip gloss :))
Is it the day when we are supposed to make our offspring and children wait on us hand and foot and make us breakfast in bed?
And does anyone actually want breakfast in bed?
It just sounds messy to me.
And then what about when there are multiple matriarchs? Is it mothers day for me, if I’m organising something special for my own mother? Cause honestly, that just sounds like a whole bunch more work (and I don’t mean that I don’t want to organise something for my mother. Just that the idea gets flawed.)
To me, it’s all a bit commercial, like valentines day. We do it cause we’re supposed to, when personally, I’d rather just have my family do something nice for me ‘just because.’
There is so much to this role we call mum; so many different facets of what we do and how we feel. We are more than just one person on any given day. We are teachers and doctors and cleaners and entertainers and the list goes on. We are always going above and beyond, and it’s no wonder we are exhausted. No wonder someone came up with the idea of mothers day, in the effort to maybe give us all a break. (Or more cynically, sell some chocolate.)
But there is also so much good.
So much good.
Like two weeks ago, when I picked Miss Bridie up from school early, and we had a special lunch together, and wandered around the shops looking at all the things we wished we could buy. Those moments of mother daughter time, can not be bought; they are invaluable.
Or last week, when after four days at home, I could not wait to send BJ to Pre School so that I could have a break from his incessant chatter, and the first thing he did when I picked him up, was hug me tight and tell me he missed me.
Or Tuesday when Miss Ava fell out of the car and onto the road, head first. And I screamed when it happened because my heart leapt into my throat and the thought of her being hurt was too much to bear.
When the same day, Miss Taylah shut her arm in the boot of the car, and we were at the hospital checking for a suspected fracture, and the doctor was not being gentle enough. And seeing my girl be so tough made the tears prick my eyes, and the Mama bear inside rise up until she very nearly bit that doctors head off.
And when I came home, how much I loved that I had that reaction. How huge a relief it was to me to know that it doesn’t matter how big my babies get, or how demanding or how hard it is to love them equally at every second of the day; when it comes down to it, we are connected in such a real primal way, that I literally hurt when they hurt. That their pain and anguish and pride is also my own.
I do what I do because I love them.
And everyday, they respond the same way.
Yes, they have their moments, but these tiny people are always so quick to forgive me, so swift to love me, so desperate to smother me with their affections, even when I’m not really in the mood for it.
I don’t need this Sunday to celebrate my mothering status.
Everyday I look at my kids and amazed that they love me like they do.
Amazed that I love them like I do.
So maybe my mother was right in saying every day is Kids Day.
But I think every day is Mothers Day as well.
Edited to add: I’m a firm believer that it is not just the bearing of children that makes us women mothers. There are so many mums out there whose hearts make them that way, and to them, I wish the specialist of days. Mothers day and every other day of the year. xxxxx