So, I’m not gonna lie. I love Mother’s Day.
It’s June 20th for me… the day I found out I was going to be a mom! A MOM!! ME?!?!
It wasn’t long after I lost that pregnancy, but I was already a mom. My body had created a life. Sure it was not meant to walk upon the Earth, but my heart didn’t care. My heart knew: I was a mom.
And thus, my Mother’s Day was born.
I also love “the other” Mother’s Day, if for nothing else than the ridiculous things kids say about their mothers to their teachers. Me? I’m not immune to ridiculous things… like the fact that I make things disappear? If we’re talking about food and dirt, then yes. Nailed it. (But really, let’s just be thankful she didn’t say “drink wine”…)
But I also love that it is so low-key for us. There is no brunch planned, no big dinner. There are sometimes flowers, a charm for my bracelet, but most of the time the day passes without more than extra kisses and the whisper of I forgot a card.
I know it’s because we don’t have the means for a celebration fit for a queen, or because every single day I get to wake up as a mom and for that, let’s be honest, I need to be more grateful than I am… so many want to be a mother. I know that it isn’t this, but doesn’t the Universe work in mysterious ways?Who really cares if you got a card? #mothersday Click To Tweet
Just weeks after Mom gets a kick-ass day to celebrate her, we attempt the same thing for dads. Somehow they are shafted, not getting nearly as much attention (or money) spent on them for doing the same, not-so-menial, task of raising the future generation, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, their day: Father’s Day, comes.
And I feel terrible.
I want to be all got you a new grill, shave kit, detail for your car because I love you and you’re an awesome Dad, but I am more like had the kids sign a card that I wrote something in while I was crying because I know I am 31 and my dad has been dead for what seems like forever, but I can’t get over it.
And he hugs me and holds me anyway. Even though I totally screw the day. Some years, I just can’t.
My Catholic and Jewish guilt combined can be too much for me to handle sometimes, and knowing that I can’t get it together for one darn day to celebrate him always pulls me away from expecting anything from Mother’s Day… because it’s just a day, right? My girls and Dave treat me to hot breakfasts every weekend. Dave is a 100% hands-on parent (when he isn’t working). We spend lots of family time together. We lift each other up in our endeavors, whatever that may be. Do I need a special day?
Because for Dave it isn’t about the newest release from Lowe’s or having a new shiny thing to show his fatherhood off… it’s about raising his girls.
And I guess… that’s what Mother’s Day has to be for me. Because brunch seems like a good idea… but
sometimes it’s not. Mother’s Day is kind of a funny day where we get to pretend that we won’t have to clean the kitchen or bang out the dirt from cleats or prep for the week because it would be amazing to have a clone of ourselves for a day, but really, we will need to do all of these (or do them over if anyone but us attempted them) and everything else we usually do because we are moms. We get it done, however we do. Whether we have a partner in crime, backup from friends or family, or hack at it alone.
We are moms… and, really, would we have it any other way? Happy Mother’s Day to everyone out there who has ever mothered.