Taking Mother's Day for Granted

Hello, Moms!

This coming Sunday is the Superbowl of Mom-dom.  Motherhood's yearly crescendo.  The day we say doesn't matter all that much, but crushes us when our offspring (or our husbands) take our word for it.

We have hopes for Mother's Day, all of us, whether we feel like admitting it or not.  We can deny those little prickles of envy over the moms we know who will find themselves lavished with small gifts, cute child-drawn cards, lovely brunches, doting (and well-behaved) children and hovering husbands.

I have to say, I take for granted that Mother's Day will pan out for me in ways I don't expect.  I have no list of wants or hopes, but I have hope for a vision of a perfect day that I cannot describe.  I can feel it, but have no words for it.  I suppose the best way to say it is that I want to think my kids will hone in on the simplicity of the day and simply do some small but meaningful things for me that I would normally do for them.

But, unless driven -- at least to keep up the momentum -- by their dad, they don't step up to the plate.

From their point of experience, what do I show them?  That I get up every morning to pack their lunches for school, follow them up to bed every night to tuck them in and make sure all is right in their emotional, physical, social and spiritual world.  I counsel them, instruct them, nurse them, cook and clean for them, chauffeur them, wait for them, discipline them, hope and dream for them, pray for them, love them, guide them, make mistakes in front of them and apologize to them when I do.

I admit, I have dropped the Motherhood Ball sometimes, which, for most mothers, looks and feels more like a medicine ball than anything a normal person can toss around easily.  By handling the big, unwieldy, hard-to-balance blur called "motherhood", and without making a big deal about the details, woes and worries of it every day, I have given them an example of selflessness without even knowing it.

We mothers have made mothering appear natural, normal, and ... well ... easy.  In the eyes of our children, what does a day of pampering and relaxation mean?  For what?  She's our MOM!  This is what she does right?  Isn't this what happens?

In other words, they don't think to honor us because we're just doing what they think comes natural.  We make it appear simple, quick and painless.  And we get to yell on occasion (not recommended behavior) without getting into trouble.

To my children, I have it made.  I'm living The Life.  They, on the other hand,  have to go to school every day and then try to avoid doing chores once they arrive home.  Oh, and feel bored.   I appear to take it all in stride, always have something to do that I seem to enjoy, get the basics accomplished and not require any maintenance.  

Therefore, when my husband throws the pitches about Mother's Day coming up soon, giving them plenty of time to develop a game plan and hone a few skills for the Big Day, they simply don't really get what they're supposed to be celebrating ... or, maybe more accurately, being gently coerced (aka "lovingly forced") to celebrate.

We all take Mother's Day for granted.  I take for granted that they notice what I do for them, that they feel my support and love, and that it makes a difference in their lives.

And it does -- and they show me all the time, just not on the one day they're supposed to do it joyfully and with gusto.

On any given day, they honor me by:

- collapsing into my arms to cry when they've been hurt, letting me know I comfort them
- jump-hugging me when I prepare their favorite foods, because I know their preferences
- smiling shyly when they have a great piece of artwork from school to show me, letting me know they respect my opinion
- fighting openly and to the point of pain together, letting me know they need me to care, to break it up, and to offer wisdom and discipline which they can't yet muster
- telling me their painful moments from the day, letting me know they trust me to listen and to offer advice
- asking me questions about faith and about God, letting me know they see me as a godly mom

They do all sorts of nifty things over the course of a day, week, month or year, and have accomplished millions of mom-honoring moments in their short lifetimes.

As for what our children take for granted?  Everything.  I do "Mom" every day.  It's my job, it's my lot in life, it's my God-given responsibility and ministry.  I will never stop being their mom.  It's all they have ever known and all they will know, even when I have passed from this earth.

Really, when I think about it, they don't take me for granted.  They depend on me.  Moms are comfort and discipline, order and organized chaos, hope, love, healers, encouragers, dreamers for their future and the one person in their lives who won't ever turn away, purposefully hurt them, or deny them guidance when they ask for it.

I read once that parents are like God to children.  When they're small, we know everything and can do anything.  They witness all of it, and they admire us by mirroring our behavior.  Small children celebrate well ... a simple scribble on a piece of construction paper suffices as a love-engraved example of a Mother's Day card, and we cherish it.  All our children need in those years is the idea that today is special for Mom, and we accept the card, a tilting and spilling bowl of cereal and some jelly-smeared toast, and feel elated.  We feel fulfilled by those short, heart-filled moments.  We know we exist as our child(ren)'s world.

As our children grow, they begin to realize our imperfection, find our faults, and mirror the behavior of others they admire differently.  We moms don't always take this well.  It's at these growing and maturing times of life, somewhere around 9 or 10 years of age, that we fall off the pedestal our kids have erected in our honor.

We are people, and we aren't always good at it.  And now, they know it.

Do they quit wanting to celebrate us?  Not exactly.  They quit wanting to make a spectacle, to be "cute" and to create an artistic card when they don't feel very Picasso but more like an Ink Blot.  They quit wanting to be guided so much, needing to have someone plan for them and help carry out the plan to the point that they weren't all that much involved anyway.

So this year, I have learned that:

1.  I will accept what they give, because they are giving themselves, not a parentally-manufactured rendition of childlike giving.
2.  I will cherish the moments every day in which they come to me, lean on me, ask of me, and rely on me as honor greater than flying banners or grand parades.
3.  I will see them as followers on the same path I walk, toward God rather than toward castles in the sand here on earth -- and that they will learn how to honor others by the way that I honor others.

As for my children, they have the honoring thing down pretty well.  I have watched my daughter make a Christmas gift for a teacher she has learned to respect and appreciate when no one else does, and learn that she rendered him speechless when giving her gift.  I have picked up my son from school when he felt sick and delivered him to my parents' home at his request ... because he likes it there.  I have watched both of our children run to their relatives, friends, parents of friends, teachers and even the bullies at school to greet them with joy and warmth.

I have seen the Glory.  I receive all the honor I need through the everyday actions of our children.

I am Mom ... watch me puddle up.