My regularly scheduled programming hereby pre-empted (translation: I bumped the Costco-related blog I promised last week until next time) by this belated Mother's Day missive.
First off, I hope all you moms enjoyed some well-deserved relaxation. (Hmmm … maybe I should rework that sentence, as inserting the terms “mom” and “relaxation” in the same sentence is a syntactical stretch.) I know I did.
Although I've been a mom for 14 years, I must admit there are still days when it's hard to believe that I'm (gulp) someone's mother. Like, when I hear a distantly familiar child's voice angelically calling out in that charming melody only a kid can muster: “MOM!!! I CAN'T FIND MY SHOES! WHERE DID YOU PUT THEM?!” When queries like these cross my airwaves, I find myself peering over my shoulder to locate the person to whom that sweet cherub is chirping. Poor sap, I think to myself, while wondering where on earth that kiddo's parent is. I mean, really, people! Can't we have a little peace and quiet around here?
After existing in this self-induced utopia for a few more seconds, I realize that I am in fact the intended target of this teenage entreaty — that it just so happens to be one of MY adorable progeny (who all, by the way, are under the impression that I'm equipped with some sort of maternal GPS to track errant articles of clothing and other odds and ends that go missing in our house at regular intervals). After a madcap dash around the rooms in search of the wayward sneakers, I finally locate them under a tangle of (now not-so-clean) clothes that my son “forgot” to put away the night before. Naturally, however, clean socks are not a part of the pile, which sets in motion the next line of panicked questioning: “MOM!!! I DON'T HAVE ANY CLEAN SOCKS! WHY DIDN'T YOU WASH THEM?!” Yep, it's going to be one of those days.
When I was growing up, I though becoming a parent would be akin to flipping a switch — that upon giving birth, I'd magically morph from naive me to all-knowing mom. Brimming with confidence, I'd moxie my way through motherhood, never doubting my decisions or questioning my choices.
Boy, was I wrong.
If anything, being a mom reveals your insecurities and vulnerabilities. It's scary, too, because when you mess up (and you always will), you've got a built-in audience who's never afraid to remind you of your missteps. Suddenly, your choices have much bigger consequences. And the ramifications sting.
That it can be a thankless, lonely, brutally exhausting job makes mamahood all the more tough.
But you know what? Women ARE tough. I know it's easy to lose sight of our strength when we're battling our way through life. Plus, kids can be harsh adversaries. But I promise you: We are completely capable of all that motherhood lobs our way.
Dirty socks included.
