Let’s walk down memory lane, shall we? And enjoy the Mother’s Days passed.
2012. The lighting was really…uh,
terrific. There’s a child missing and a child bawling. And her mother’s laughing at her. How mean am I? Anyway, this picture is a favorite. Little B was so sad because we took separate cars to church and she couldn’t go with me. Oh, when I was so adored! Btw, Cope is wearing my green cardigan and that white one has mysteriously gone missing from my closet. They claim innocence.
2011. I remember I hated my hair. I also wore running shoes to church due to plantar fasciitis. It was a lovely look. My Copey is wearing my old skirt. Brynne is wearing Cope’s baptism dress. They look so little…and so grown up!
2010. Pre-braces. We liked the couch on this Mother’s Day. So many glorious naps on the red couch. I miss the couch. This was a fun age, when every time I entered the house, the children squealed with delight and Paige cried because she missed me every second.
I became a mom in 1999, but I wasn’t doing digital prints then. Be assured, there are pictures. I love those pictures. What may have once seemed “imperfect,” is a treasure.
Here’s my own mother, so many years ago when she basically had triplets. She would say, “look at my ratty hair,” but I adore it. I adore her familiar smile. And the way my father’s elbow rests on hers. We are wearing homemade matching dresses with matching home haircuts. I particularly like my twin’s homemade plaid pants.
Ah, Mother’s Day. I’d like to tip-toe into the subject and then I shall tip-toe right back out. I wish Mother’s Day was happier for more women. I wish we wouldn’t set ourselves up to be so disappointed. Too often, idealism robs rather than motivates. It’s mythical. Children (and spouses) need positive reinforcement; that’s motivating.
Are we setting the bar a bit too high? It’s as if our imperfect family will suddenly be our “ideal” and when those impossible expectations aren’t met, we’re crushed.
Like when Gregor threw up that one year. It was like he was throwing up at me.
I took the barf very personally.
This past Mother’s Day I decided I would not be disappointed by anything. Not even if my husband had to work all weekend (he did) or if the cherubs were crabby (never!)
I decided to appreciate the fact that I have a pretty awesome life. I have a mother here and a mother there. We GET to be mothers. So really, we may as well enjoy it. Every effort, no matter how small or imperfect is a sign that we are remembered, even if we have to ask someone to make dinner, set the table, and make a card (yes, I voice my needs 🙂
When I called my mom and visited my mother-in-law on Mother’s Day they were so grateful, so appreciative. “Thank you for remembering,” they said. I understand this. Mothers don’t need a lot on Mother’s Day, but we need a pause. We need to be remembered. Jewelry is just a bonus 🙂
I heard quite a few sentiments on Mother’s Day that ranged from, “It was a terrible day. My children were wretched. I feel like such a terrible mother” to “Just another day in paradise.” I like this one. Motherhood is much more enjoyable if we bring a sense of humor with us.
So when we’re given a dandelion bouquet, the imperfect drawing that makes us look like a herd of elephants and brought burnt toast for breakfast, say thank you. Don’t forget: Someone remembered you.
It’s the thought that counts.
Unless they’re throwing the burnt toast at you.
Mother’s Day was not created for mothers to feel more guilt. It’s just a day to be remembered. Which you are. Which I do. I’m sending you my wishes and kisses. I adore you women, each and every one.