I swore this wasn’t going to be a mommy blog. And it’s not, right?
I was feeling pretty vulnerable since my last post about the time my young (YOUNG) kids accidentally web-surfed for Internet porn. I shared it with the millions of readers (ok, just like 27 if I was lucky) of the blogosphere. I could feel the head shakes, the shameful tsks, the judginess.
I need to follow that doozy up with some positivity. I’m not always a terrible mom. I don’t always forget to send in lunch. I don’t consistently take the iPad away. I might even go to a PTA meeting before college begins. Sometimes I’m even slightly above average.
And then there are those moments when being their mom is simply the best thing in the world. My best work. My heart exploding. And they all happen to happen on Mother’s Day.
- There was the time we took Finch to see the Imagination Movers live on Mother’s Day. Think tolerable rock music for kids. Talk about selflessness! Sparrow was just 10 weeks old, and in the baby carrier. Their encore song was called “The Mother in You”. It was a catchy little diddy none of us had heard before. The lyrics packed a punch and captured everything I’d hope my 2 1/2 year old might think of me. At the bridge of this great work, the foursome was on stage harmonizing “I love my mom” over and over. That’s when my bitty boy turned to me and said in the clearest full sentence he may have spoken to date “I love you Mommy.” He heard the music, he felt those words, and his little tiny cup runneth over enough to push me right over the edge with postpartum emotion.
- Fast forward three years. I was home on maternity leave once again after Lark was born. Finch’s kindergarten class had some thing for moms in early May. Good thing I was home because if I were working I would never had taken a precious vacation day to attend. Turns out the class had been studying poetry and each child/mommy pair had a turn at the front of the room for a serenade of sorts. Our children had written us each a book of poems, and were showing off their new reading skills by reading one out loud. Student after student went up there and professed their love to their moms by saying how much they appreciated how she cleaned up the house or made them dinner or even how she effortlessly lunched with her fellow mom friends. When it was our turn, I perched in the stool and looked nervously at my toothless little Finch. In his little voice with the funny r’s and l’s, he read his masterpiece. It was different. It was about how his mom works, and uses a computer, and enjoys eating chicken parmigiana. My perceptive five year old knew his mom wasn’t like the others, but not only was that a-ok with him- it made him proud! It was all worth it. He would grow to be a man who respects women and supports his working wife wholeheartedly.
- By now, you’re thinking this woman is so perfect, right? False! You think this is enough of a “gift” to satisfy me on Mother’s Day? No way. I want to reap a bigger reward for all I do. I want the booty too! Shower me in diamonds, purses, cameras, material things!! The more kids, the more mommyhood! Gull’s pretty good on delivering there as well, but my favorite gift so far were the earrings I got last year. No fancy gems or brand names this time. But they came to me in Sparrow”s chubby stubby hands, his eyes squinty with smile. He had picked them out himself online. They were not my style at all. But I loved every inch of them, because he was thinking of me when he and his dad pressed order. I wear them all the time, and even Sparrow himself has become exhausted by my lack of diversity on the accessory front. But on a tough day at work, as I stare at myself in the ladies room mirror, and ask myself how I can possibly keep this up, I see a little gold peek through my hair and I know it’s all for them.
Can’t wait to see what’s in store for me on Mother’s Day this year!