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Health & Fitness

The Second Sunday in May

Its the moments that make Mother's Day

Mother’s Day is a lovely notion; a day when mothers are honored for just that, being mothers.  And mothers are certainly worth celebrating.  But here’s the catch, all mothers have children.  And many have mothers of their own (not to mention grandmothers).  And some even have husbands….with mothers. 

So in reality Mother’s Day looks a lot like all those other days when we of the maternal-mind-set spend much of our time juggling the wants and needs of everyone in our family.  Which, by definition, is a big part of being a mother. 

Except on Mother’s Day most of us also get a card and some flowers. 

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I certainly didn’t become a mother for the accolades and having been a mother for a while now, I find it inconceivable that a full twenty-four hours could be devoted to me.  But I do like the idea that on the second Sunday in May my husband and children are expected to acknowledge, and possibly even commemorate, my role as a mother.   

Plus, I love the homemade cards from my daughters with handprints as flower petals and glitter that spills off and makes every surface in my house (and my dogs) sparkle.  And the concerts at school where children sing songs with choruses that sum up every stereotype about mothers - i.e., we bake, carpool, bandage, and cuddle.  (Okay, truth be told, that is a lot of what we actually do, but it sounds awfully trite when put to music.)  And the requisite breakfast in bed when my family wakes me up me up with their version of what I like to eat and we all snuggle together and watch cartoons (of their choosing).

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And even though my “Mother’s Day” is usually over by ten a.m., it’s just enough of a reminder that all those things I say (often repeatedly and with increasing volume) and do actually make an impact.

I don’t really need flowers, a card, pancakes, or a new nightgown to validate my function in the family, but (and this may well be stating the obvious – and I mean OBVIOUS) being a mother is sometimes…..very……well……hard!  Motherhood is amazing.  But it’s also completely exhausting.  And immensely rewarding.  And equally frustrating.  And occasionally absolutely terrifying. 

My children and I are intricately interconnected, and much of my time is spent contemplating and (hopefully) contributing to their health and happiness.  I don’t consider it a pathological attachment, but rather a perfectly understandable side effect of having actually grown another human being inside of me.  Even though that cord was cut long ago, the responsibility for nurturing and nourishing those two small mysterious creatures who look a bit like me reverberates through my every word, action, and breath. 

Every moment with my children, those both significant and seemingly trivial, adds a paragraph or even a page to their story - who they are and who they will become.   Although we have amassed volumes already, the pages fill so quickly that I rarely have the time to read the words and it all becomes part of the blur between then and now and next. 

And so I relish the shield of Mother’s Day because it forces me to pause in the continual chaos of getting everyone up, dressed, fed, out, educated, enriched, back in, fed (again), clean, and finally back down, and focus on the brilliance shrouded in the daily routines and everyday exchanges. 

My daughter sheepishly smiling at me through the window of the school bus as it turns the corner, sprinting at me full speed yelling “Mommy’s home!” as I come through the door, slipping her hand into mine unexpectedly as we walk the dog, carefully folding the napkins into triangles at dinnertime, giggling hysterically as she runs naked through the house after a bath, giving me a “fancy hairdo” after I give her a ponytail, removing every single cushion from the couch to make a fort, looking at me incredulously as I sing along to “Miss Lucy had a steamboat” and questioning how I could possibly know those words, teetering around the house wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of my high heels, whispering “One more cuddle” as I attempt to leave her room at bedtime.  Those moments of absolute joy and love the greatest gifts of motherhood. And they are given without occasion, incentive, or warning. 

The homemade cards and pictures, the clay vases and paperweights, the beaded necklaces and bracelets are keepsakes that help me recall all the second Sunday’s in May when I wasn’t besieged with the minutiae of mothering, but simply enjoying the benefits. 

But the safeguard doesn’t last for long.  The pancakes eaten, the cards given, the sentiments shared, it’s time to select a souvenir for another mother, walk the dogs, practice piano, do a load of laundry, and go to the grocery store.

And then start thinking about Father’s Day.

Michelle Albright has two kids, two dogs, and a PhD in Psychology.  In addition to writing dismissal notes, lunchbox letters, and grocery lists, she blogs on parenting and play for InnovativeKids.

(c) 2012 by innovativeKids, Inc. This article was originally published at www.innovativekidsblog.com, a parenting blog that focuses on the power of play as a way to help children learn, grow, and thrive. Based in Norwalk, CT, innovativeKids creates children's toys, puzzles, and books that combine the best of fun and learning!

 

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