Skip to main content

A Little Something For All the Mamas

My mom: What can I say? I sent you three cards already, none of which you'll receive today because you're out of the country. Again. Celebrating the freedom of being a mother to adults. Again. But maybe you'll have a chance to read this, so I'll give you a preview:


They're all hilarious, because that's the kind of daughter you raised. Which is funny to me because you're very much the kind of person who buys the card written by the guy who gets paid by the word. You're sappy, sentimental, and you made us watch Breathing Lessons on the Hallmark channel because you wanted us to be like you. Epic fail. But that's OK because my favorite thing in the world to do is laugh with you. Taking a close second to laughing at you. (I've got the Jewel CD and a pair of headphones waiting for you whenever you're ready to sing again.)

Eric's mom: I'm 100% sure I don't thank you enough for growing Eric up to be the man he is. Even when he was young and dumb and you'd clearly forgotten to teach him not to throw rocks at the girls he liked, I was impressed. And as he grew up, it was always so obvious that he had truly amazing parents. But it wasn't until I got the chance to see him be a parent that I realized just how incredible you must be at your job. Thank you for setting the example that has made all the difference in Ayana's and my world.
PS. I look forward to the day I'm not so intimidated by your greatness that I can send you one of the hilarious mother's day cards. There are just so many good ones out there...

Ayana's mom: Go get your kid out of the bathtub. She's been in there for over an hour. This is Mother's Day, not Remember When You Didn't Have a Kid Day.

Ayana's other mom: Sometimes I like to think about all the things we have in common. Is your daughter just like mine? Does she scold her babies in an uncanny impression of you? Do you love that moment when she finally falls asleep, but then poke her awake because you miss her? Does she pull your face to her face and say, "I love your face"? Does she eat nonstop? I know we're worlds apart, and the life I've created with your baby is different than the one you would have given her; but I like to think that the love is the same. The same, only better because she has it from me and from you. Thanks for loving her and thanks for letting me love her too.

Pinterest moms: Thanks for making me look bad. Really. Thanks.

All the other mothers: Here's the thing--you volunteered for hardest job of all the jobs. Except it's not a job because you don't get paid. So take all the kisses and hand drawn cards and moon rocks and half eaten sandwiches you can get, because you'd be broke without all that. And know that whether you're hitting it out of the park or you're just barely scraping by, you're amazing. You haven't quit that unpaid position and you never will. So celebrate that. You're the one who never gives up. You're the one who takes that flower pot with your kid's face on it and cherishes it. You're the one who imagines your life all the other ways, all the easier ways, and thinks Nope. This is my jam. This (the piles of laundry and the always reminding to say please and the dirty footprints on the clean window and the pancake batter in the hair and the always missing sock) is my jam. 

It's your jam, ladies. Celebrate it.  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When Your Daughter Isn't Turning Into You, But You're Turning Into Your Mother

And by you , of course   I mean me . So here's the story as it has been told to me over the years. For reasons that were undoubtedly religiously motivated, my mom decided she was going to home school my brother and me. She started with Jesse at whatever early age because he was reading in the womb and dividing cheerios in his highchair and blah, blah, blah. It was so much fun and he was so smart and remember the time he related the word sequel to the  Back to the Future series?! What a genius! What pure joy to watch this child learn! And then I came along. There are no stories about my great mental prowess, my clever anecdotes. There is only one story. The story that ends quite abruptly at, "And then I enrolled you both in school." Thinking on it now, I'm not sure we can even call it a story. It's really just a crude reenactment of a poor young child struggling to read the word bug . "B-U-G. B-U-G. You kept saying the sounds, but you just couldn't put...
6 comments
Read more

A Rush of Gratitude

I know this will be an unpopular opinion among my peoples, but upon his death I am forced to reflect on a certain degree of gratitude I feel for Rush Limbaugh.  I grew up listening to him from the back seat of the car. My dad would tune in to his AM station all the way across Kansas, often turning it up loud to make out his words through the static. From a very young age, Rush's program taught me to question the adults—the "experts"—around me. I would hear his words and think to myself: That can't be right. Those words sound like hate, not love.  My childhood was confusing. Whose wasn't? I spent a lot of time trying to parse all the mixed messages in a brain that really wasn't sophisticated enough to do that kind of work. As a result, I often felt confused. Out of place. A disappointment to the people I was supposed to be pleasing.  But all that melted away whenever I heard Rush speak. Even through the static I could hear a message loud and clear: "Resist...
1 comment
Read more

What They Don't Tell You

Here's what the do tell you: every story they can remember about it going wrong. Anyone who's ever adopted a child will tell you it's like everyone has an inner Miss Rachel Lynde who just can't wait to say: "Adopting a girl ? Well I know someone who did that and it was just a disaster. She'll burn you to a crisp in your bed. That's what!" I'm sure it's the same if you have the audacity to birth twins or if, god forbid, you consider having more than the requisite 2.5 children. People have thoughts. And people love to think out loud. The truth is, you learn how to respond to what they tell you pretty quick. Or, I did. Every now and again someone will throw me a curveball; but there's not much a You must be so embarrassed to have said that  won't cover. Transparent idiocy—what they do  tell you—is easy to address. But in this time when people are learning to be more open about their privilege, their inadequacies, I'll just...
Post a Comment
Read more