It's weird.
It's not weird because I enjoy it, but it's weird because I like it so much.
It's better than my birthday. It's better than Valentine's Day or Christmas or Thanksgiving or really anything else. It might be my favorite day of the year.
It's not because of any gifts I receive. I have plenty of other days in the year that offer that same perk.
It's not because it is a day when the people in my house focus on me. Again, there are other days, namely my birthday, when this happens.
Why do I like this day so much?
I suppose it goes back to a time before I ever became a mother. I was not the person who thought that she was born to be a mother. Babies sort of scared me, and I wasn't sure if motherhood was for me mainly because I wasn't sure that I would be any good at it.
What if I didn't like it? It's not like I could send the kid back.
And what if parenthood didn't suit me? I was a fairly selfish person before kids (some might argue that I still am) and the idea of giving up a part of myself to become a mother was pretty scary.
I feel like these were (fairly) normal fears to have, and thankfully I ignored them and took the plunge anyway.
Babies don't scare me anymore. I do like motherhood. And parenthood does suit me ... at least I think so anyway.
Now that I am a mother, there are times that I feel like this was what I was meant to do (even though pre-baby me never once believed that). Of course, there are times that I feel like an epic failure as a mother. And it is this weird see-saw between those two feelings that leaves me totally fulfilled and yet working to become a better version of myself.
My friend, Emily, writes a blog which I read regularly. I read it because we haven't seen each other since my wedding (almost 8 years?!) and I like to know how she is doing, to watch her kids grow, and to feel like I interact with her (even though we have not had an actual face to face conversation in nearly a decade). The other day she posted a link to this blog post. It really hit home for me and made me think a lot about myself as a mom. No one ever says to mothers, "Hey, you might not be good at this at first. You might feel like you are the worst. You're not. You will get better even though it won't necessarily feel that way. What you do matters."
I like being a mom. I like it because it's hard. I like it because no matter what there is room for me to get better and to learn something. Lord knows that my girls teach me plenty. (and Lucy will like this because she does think that she knows everything)
I like being a mom because even when I think I am a failure as a homemaker and I manage to screw up a boxed cake recipe, Lucy will come over right on cue and genuinely exclaim, "Mama, this cake is beautiful!" With that one sentence I will see the world through her eyes and know that life is good, that the people around me are the ones that matter, and that it isn't the boxed cake that she cares about. And neither should I.
So, back to my original point: I like Mother's Day. I like it because being a mom is the hardest job in the world, and I am slowly but surely, kind of, sort of, maybe starting to figure it out. And on this day, I am reminded again and again to look around and be thankful, specifically for my two sweet girls and the wonderful husband who has agreed to undertake the daunting task of trying to raise them.
I am also reminded to be thankful for my own mother and my mother-in-law. These two women (along with their husbands) are the ones who taught me and Steve how to be good parents. Perhaps one of the biggest perks of parenting is to watch your own children connect with your parents and to see the unconditional love that is exchanged. No one loves their grandmothers as much as Lucy and Caroline do, and that is something that I wouldn't trade for anything.
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