Happy Mother's Day!

It's coming! That one day a year when mothers are revered, showered with gifts and flowers and perhaps treated to a special meal. Mother's day is a lovely sentiment but not nearly enough of a celebration of what will, far and away, be the hardest job you've ever had (and loved). Mothering is not for the weak and it doesn't end in 18 years. Mothering is a lifelong commitment, a job with duties you can not even imagine you will be strong enough to endure. But you will.

Parts of mothering will not be beautiful or sweet or conjure images of a Madonna and child, bathed in soft light, gazing at each other lovingly. No, parts of it will tear you in half and make you cry tears you didn't even know you had and make you question your worth and the very decision to bring a human into this world.

Parts of mothering will make you laugh with a joy you didn't know could happen, and you will marvel at the wonder of this creature you created - so smart, so beautiful, so perfect. HOW did you get so lucky? You really won the jackpot with this one. This one puts all other tiny humans to shame.

Parts of mothering will leave you exhausted with a tired so bone-deep you can't even imagine sleeping it off. How did you ever survive on so little sleep? How do you get things done? And why don't those little ones nap long enough? And then one day you will lay down to take a nap and wake, discombobulated, with a slight panic that you missed something or left someone unattended and you will realize that there are no small ones to care for anymore and you can nap whenever you damn well please.

Parts of mothering will leave you scratching your head in confusion about the decisions your young ones make, and why they don't just take your sage advice when you've lived a good amount of life, already, darn it, and you KNOW things. You will watch them make costly mistakes with love, life and finances and you will try hard not to say "I told you so" but you'll whisper it anyway, because you DID.

Parts of mothering will make you wish you never obtained a driver's license. Because you will drive and drive and drive and you will be so sick of driving. You will have rules about eating in the car and by the end of baseball season, your floorboards will be strewn with stale french fries and the empty carcasses of Gatorade bottles. You will stow extra makeup, wipes, snacks and blankets in the car such that by the end of your youngest child's last year in high school, your car will become a fully-stocked second home, complete with emergency kit, extra water, and enough reusable shopping bags to create a suitable outdoor tent, should the need arise.

Parts of mothering will make you wonder who you ever were before becoming a mom, and find yourself hesitating when asked about your hobbies, because you're not sure arranging a PTA luncheon or or spending hours on the phone booking orthodontist appointments count as "hobbies". You will sign up for a photography class but miss half of them because it's spring and that means there are dozens of "end of the year" activities, concerts, parties and events where kids receive cheap plastic trophies. And you will attend because you're the mom.

Parts of mothering will make you wish you'd gone to nursing school, or at least taken a decent psychology class, so you could tell the difference between "I don't feel good" and appendicitis. You'll err on the side of your preference to go to yoga and send the kid to school, only to have the nurse call you while you are in downward dog to say your child is running a fever. And you will skip savasana and rush to the school and feel like a shit mom because you thought he was standing in front of the stove again and faking a fever.

Parts of mothering, especially when you have more than one child, will have you forgetting that child at soccer camp, after-school activities, and possibly Target if they have the audacity to wander off when you are in the middle of checking things off a list in between a sibling's dentist appointment and the marimba concert at school that evening. You will receive a frantic text and you will text back "in the checkout line" when you are really at coffee with your friend and it's hour three. And the youth will survive.

Parts of mothering will have you reaching for a glass of wine once the baby has finally, blessedly, gone to sleep and you have exactly 14 minutes of "me time" before you fall asleep on the couch. And the next thing you know, the baby is awake and she's 23 and you're meeting her for happy hour and the two of you down two margaritas each and stumble off into the sunshine because she's a lightweight and you're a lightweight and when did that happen? But you will laugh and say "Are you drunk?" and you will have a designated driver because you're both responsible that way.

Parts of mothering will have you basking in pride at the way your kids have grown up and grown into their own authentic beings, despite and because of your parenting. They will have jobs and responsibilities and their own residence. And at first you'll wish you had grandkids because you just can't bear the fact that they aren't little anymore and you NEED to squeeze a squishy baby.  But then you will realize you really want grandkids because you can't bear not to see the world through a child's eyes and you yearn for that sense of wonder again. And perhaps it's because you never really grew up yourself, despite the fact that you bore and raised multiple humans to adulthood. Maybe you just want to color again and blow bubbles, and have a reason to sit in the fire engine at the summer festival. And that's ok.

Parts of mothering will define you and become you and you will realize that although you never asked for much of the strife and pain that goes along with the job, you also never expected rewards so deep and love so sincere.

Happy Mother's Day!