This past Mother’s Day was one of particular importance to
me because it felt, as pompous as it may sound, well-deserved. Although I had
the excuses to celebrate it three years ago with a new baby in my arms and old
stretch marks on my belly, my
first Mother’s Day felt more like a rite of passage; an initiation into
a maternal sorority. My hazing rituals consisted of forfeiting months of sleep
and tethering myself to a pumping machine around the clock and I was finally
pinned in early May of 2009. Instead of a pin, however, I received a necklace
from my husband: an oval aquamarine gem (our son’s birthstone) set in white
gold and surrounded by pave diamonds. I was treated like a queen and felt like
one—taboot—as I wore my jewelry with delight. It was a holiday with a little
bit of glamour that contrasted the months of postpartum darkness that I dwelled
in. It was a holiday in which my baby, barely 3 months old at the time, was
still immobile and fairly easy to accommodate (Eat every 3 hours. Nap. Poop.
Repeat.) It was a holiday in which I could go out to eat with my husband and
child in tow and the restaurant staff would
wish me a wonderful Mother’s Day, complement me on my new sparkling accessory,
and I could say, “Oh, thank you so much! It’s his birthstone” nodding to the
baby beside me, to which they would ogle my adorable little bundle.
On my second Mother’s Day I was gifted a Rhododendron. For
me it was like a metaphor for what the prior year was like learning to become
parents and truly adjusting to life with a child. Like our son, the flowering bush added beauty to our home
and was a symbol of growth (well, until I accidentally killed it… No one in
this household was born with a green thumb. In fact, I am pretty sure they don’t even fall within the
color-spectrum.)
Then on Mother’s Day of 2011, I received a hammock. This gift was so appropriate and
appreciated. It provided a place
to spend time for rest and relaxation before the birth of our second child. In
the months following that Mother’s Day, I spent many sunny afternoons rocking
with my firstborn, reading him stories, and singing songs together. These were
moments that I knew I would treasure, but are now even more coveted to me that
our second son is here and my firstborn is continuously active.
Mother’s Day weekend this year kicked off on Saturday when I
sent Caiden to The Little Red School House in town so that he could participate
in their weekly preschool play program. It was there that he planted me a
flower to which he promptly plucked the bloom off. His teacher allowed him to
plant me a new one and then he plucked that bloom off, so I am currently displaying
a cup of dirt on my kitchen table with amusement. Dan worked night before so he
needed to sleep during the day in preparation for his next 3rd-shift. Prior to heading to bed,
however, he delivered me a large coffee and a ½ dozen donuts. Once the boys
were awake and ready, we went to church. With the help of the nursery staff
there, the kids made homemade art pieces. They were
unexpected and inadvertently served as little paper time capsules. Caid’s demonstrated
his emerging preschool skills of pasting while Ryan’s is so precious with a
simple tracing of his tiny hand.
 |
| (C's had an unfortunate encounter with a bag of chips-- hence, the grease marks.) |
 |
| (Makes me melt.) |
We went about the remainder of the afternoon
as usual with a few household chores and caring for two wonderful children on
two completely different schedules. When Dan awoke he ordered dinner out and I
closed out my day with some comfy pjs and the Desperate Housewives series finale (although I must add that my husband
did surprise me with a bowl of hot popcorn to snack on in bed).
Yes, although this past Mother’s Day was not filled with
gifts that sparkled and shined, it may have meant the most to me to date. This
was a Mother’s Day in which I felt like I actually deserved to be honored. It was the first year that I felt
like I wasn’t merely just a “mommy”, but a “mom”. You see, “mommies” have lots of fun, are still figuring
things out, but still look good doing it because their kids are not in a particularly challenging stage of life.
“Moms”, on the other hand, are finally at peace with their parental
inadequacies, have mastered the art of balance, and could care less that they
did it all in yesterday’s yoga pants because their kids are older. “Mommies”
look forward to each new milestone that their child will accomplish, encourage
them to achieve it as soon as possible, and then scrapbook it. “Moms”, on the other hand, know that
the more a kid can do, the more trouble they can get into and rely on the
photos that their friends take, post, and tag on Facebook to chronicle their
kids’ early years.
Despite having a picky eater, I can hide whole grains and at
least one vegetable in almost anything. I can nurse a baby and complete a
48-piece puzzle with his older brother at the same time. I can change a diaper
with one hand behind my back and recite all 62-pages of Green Eggs and Ham. I can determine which Baby Einstein DVD is playing
based solely upon the soundtrack and I can figure out a good rainy day activity
using nothing but my imagination and the contents of our recycling bin. I know
that a baby wipe is good for cleaning just about anything, anywhere, the
necessity of shoes for any infant is highly overrated, space-saving highchairs
are a Godsend whereas skuzz-seeking bath squirters are the work of the Devil,
and that there’s nothing that a sticker—even if it is from the peel of a
banana-- can’t fix. I have thrown out my kid’s art projects because there will
always be a new one tomorrow, I have carried out a “time out” in the middle of
a public place with no qualms, and I have even threatened to turn the car
around if my kid didn’t stop his tantrum. Yes, I am now officially, a “mom”.
Let’s face it: Everyday life with two children ages 3 and
under is as unpredictable as the front lines (and the appearance of my home
resembles that metaphorical battlefield). But this Mother’s Day I earned my
proverbial stripes. And like a decorated war hero, I wear them with pride and
honor…
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