My darling Little Buddy took this picture of me on Mother's Day. One in my opinion that didn't start off on a very sophisticated note, but ended well. You see; I was under the misguided notion that Mother's Day was all about ME! Wrong... You see what it's really about is the collective. (Yes, very Borg I know, but follow me for a second)
Friday morning I'm at Little Buddy's school for "Muffins for Mom"; a great little event to honor moms for all their hard work rearing the best children possible. Well my baby just did not want to leave my side, but as I was talking to another parent about something very important (cough, cough) I kept encouraging her to go back and do her morning work. Well finally it is time for me to leave, and my baby girl touches her throat ever so elegantly and says "Can I go home with you? I have a tickle in my throat." Uh yeah right. Another mom chuckles, because it looks as choreographed and rehearsed as the latest blockbuster movie, and I say no.
I run the remainder of my errands without losing my mind, because this entails me taking my sister to get the remainder of her things from her dorm room. (How does one accumulate so much stuff in 9 months, in a room smaller than my bathroom?) I digress. We get her stuff, and I get plants from IKEA for my Girl Scout project on Saturday. We make it back home in enough time to have a small snack before the girls get home. Yet while I'm eating my sister points out that one of the birds "might" be dead. REALLY?
I can't leave a dead bird in the cage, because her companion is flipping out. Kevin is all fluffed up, and pacing the cage. He's a wreck. And I can't let the girls see a dead bird in the cage, they would freak out. (Not that they didn't do that anyways when I told them the case). Definitely should have gone with the hide and deflect until hubby could sneak in with a new one (just kidding)--kind of. You try consoling three little girls over the lose of a parakeet, with no cause of death. (Yes my girls wanted to know). So Friday is rough, but almost over.
Saturday starts out normally. Nothing big, just a Girl Scout meeting, and then an afternoon date with hubby, drop sis off at the metro station and take Little Buddy to the movies. Yes, all feasible with some finesse. Hubby and I make it to the show, even though scouting ran late. Got sis to work, but no movie for LB and I because she is asleep; with a fever. In addition my baby Bella is now running a faucet down the front of her face.
Fast Forward...early Sunday morning, , Bella knocks on the door, "I can't sleep". I get up and walk her back over to her room, and tuck her in. Repeat this process 3 more times over the course of the night, culminating at 6:00 a.m. when I fly out of the bed in a rage, saying "THIS IS MOTHER'S DAY, I SHOULD NOT BE DOING THIS!". I walk to the door, and put my hand on Bella's back to escort her to her bathroom, and she is burning UP! My baby is sick, 102 degrees, and all I could think of was myself. Shameful. I am put in check. I come back to my room humbled. I lay down, and prayed that each day; I am a better mother and wife, than the day before.
You see Mother's Day is to honor all our hard work as women influencing the lives of other people. That work is constant, non-stop, never-ending; so just because a day comes around that honors me, doesn't me that I have the day off. Besides, when I gave birth to those children, I told God I would do my very best to take care of them. Being selfish is no way to accomplish that feat.
Mothering is so much more than giving birth; it's the nurturing and supporting, the occasional indulging in fantasy, or feigned illness. The calls, the letters, the well-wishes and good advice. Mothering is loving.
So to all my Aunties, girl-friends, sisters, the women who help me to love my children into the best possible people they can be; Thank you for accompanying me on this journey of Mothering.
p.s. Now you see why I was sick yesterday.