Recently we celebrated Mother’s Day with various trappings of appreciation. Flowers, candy, dinner or some bonding event are annual events spotlighting gratitude with a 24 hour expiration. And yet it’s nice to take a breath and reflect on what it means to be a mother.
Perspective is often more illuminating about love than any gift.
Young mothers often feel overwhelmed by the job of motherhood, juggling numerous tasks, needs and personalities with little time and waning patience.
When I was a young mother in the thick of raising two boys and working full time, 18-hour days were not uncommon. I often would think of it as a treadmill where everything passed by you on all sides and you just needed to keep moving and grab whatever you could along the way.
I imagined M.O.M. as job description with taunting acronyms like “managing overwhelming mania,” “maneuvering and overcoming mayhem or sometimes “manipulating overstimulated mongrels”
The times my husband would take the boys on an outing, even for a couple hours, I’d joyously dance around the living room doing what I called “the alone dance” for a few minutes and then make a list of all the things I could accomplish without interruption.
And yet as the mother of adult children, you’re grateful for a call, picture or message about their lives, always lamenting being benched in the motherhood game. On occasion, you’re put in for relief with a request for sage advice and wisdom from the oracle of MOM, but most of the time, you sit on the sidelines looking on.
Grandmotherhood offers a new opportunity to revel in the old days of being needed and wanted and sometimes adored in real time and then gratefully soaking up the peace and quiet along with your feet and back when they go home.
And for some, Mother’s Day can be painful memories of what could have been. People who have lost their mothers posthumously now realizing their value post pictures with loving tributes on Facebook to display a Cats in the Cradle type echo of things left undone or unsaid and regrets that will never be fulfilled.
And for those who never had children, the day can be a painful reminder of the path untaken, by choice or circumstance.
But its also an opportunity to recognize and appreciate all the people who mentor, guide and direct someone to help them achieve their best life. Biology doesn’t have an exclusive lock on maternity.
So it’s a wonder why this lovefest is relegated to only one day a year. In our hearts and souls is nice, but frequent remembrance of those who are important and recognition of their unique contribution can reap a new view of our own lives with regular outward expressions, instead of a sentiment on a mug.
SUZANNE RUDD HAMILTON 