My mother died just about ten years ago. I was already a mother myself, three times over, when this happened. Or five times over. Or six. I guess it depends on how you look at it. I’ve been raising kids for a long time. I had been over needing mom for a long time, even before I was one.
My brother and sister? They were barely into their teens. How unbelievably unfair. My sister recently wrote a blog to her future non-existent kids. She outright says having a sister as a mom isn’t enough even though it is but it really isn’t.
And I get that. Having a daughter and a son for a brother and a sister isn’t always a bag of fun times either. Then again, I shouldn’t be playing matriarch to our weird multi-generational house either. If you couldn’t guess, I’m pretty anti-huge age gaps in siblings.
I get that sometimes something so amazing happens that my first reaction, ten years later, is to pick up the phone and tell my mom. Because even if I don’t need her, and even if I was done having her as my bestie, sometimes, you just want to tell your mom about the recent craziness that is going on.
My mom wasn’t at my wedding because I chose not to have a big family thing. But she was at the birth of all of my kids, whether I wanted her there or not. My mother wasn’t always there when I wanted her to be, and because of that I got into a lot of trouble. But she was always there to help me out of whatever trouble I got myself into.
My mom was a weird chicken-egg question unto herself sometimes.
My mom had my back, which I found out years and years after she died, third-hand from the very people she often “defended” me against. My mom thought I could do anything I set my mind to doing and was proud of the things I accomplished and was able to look past whatever color my hair was and whatever jewelry I had going on and whatever tattoos I decided I had to have. After she died, my mom taught me that not all life accomplishments can be measured by a piece of paper or a bank account, and that some of them are more precious for not having a way to be measured.
So some of us just want a clean house and maybe a quiet day for Mother’s Day. Some of us want to skip it and forget that it’s a thing at all. And some of us have children who want to celebrate Mother’s Day with as much fanfare as a birthday and their mothers go along with it because they love their children so very much.
My husband will be working on Mother’s Day, like he does. My kids will be pestering me to go out and do something on Mother’s Day, like they do. I will be busy trying to sleep in till noon (not gonna happen) and convince them that *everywhere* will be crowded because Mother’s Day and can we find something cozy and quiet to do at home? Like a TV or movie marathon or community reading time? Or some crazy detailed Pinterest Mothers Day craft? I’m sure I still have some crafting supplies tucked away from when the kids used to want to do stuff with me…