This year, I didn’t have the privilege of enjoying the latter, which leads me to believe the column I wrote for The Forum last year at this time may have been more prophetic than I’d realized (below). Of course, the kids knew of the impending brunch buffet, which may have had something to do with the fact that I didn’t get my usual lumpy oatmeal and burned toast. However, so far it has been a dream day, a day to truly cherish this amazing gift of motherhood. Despite years of sticky fingers on furniture and tantrums and the endless work of keeping a house (somewhat) tidy, it is worth it, indeed, to be a mother, to have the honor of helping raise up the next generation.
Today is our day to give thanks for the most beautifully wrapped presents of all: our children.
Early on in my mothering years I started the tradition of a “Madonna and Child” photo with my little ones. I now have these portraits on a wall in my bedroom. Daily, I am made aware anew of the innocence of my children. These photos help remind me that they are still fragile beings in need of tenderness, even on days I don’t feel I have that to give. Always being mindful of the baby within brings me back to grace, hard as it is some days to summon. If nothing else, the visual is there to guide my actions.
May you mothers everywhere find ways savor this day in a special way!
The evening before Mother’s Day last year my eight-year-old daughter began plotting a “breakfast in bed” event. “Poached eggs or oatmeal?” she asked. Next she wanted to know my time preference. “No earlier than eight,” I said, dreaming of a lazy morning.
As youngsters my sister and I used to play “grown-ups,” sipping tea in plastic cups and tending to our baby dolls. “Just think, someday we’ll have kids of our own,” she had said all those years ago.