The Mother Load

People who know me may be surprised to hear this confession, or those who know me really well may not – I am lazy.  If I were allowed, I would lie around endlessly watching TV marathons or movies.  I would eat pizza, drink loads of Coca-Cola and eat cupcakes and peanut M&Ms until I would slip away into a sugar/carb hangover.  Before I met my husband, I had become a workaholic to prevent my lazy side from winning the tug-a-war that always went on in my head.  I never minded it really, I enjoyed the challenge.  In fact, the night before I met my husband I confidently declared to my friends that I would be single the rest of my life, and I felt very comfortable with that being my fate.  Of course, fate had a different plan in mind for me.  I thought working 90 hours/week in New York would be enough for me.  I did not see being a wife and mother in my future, nor in my constitution. 

Being a mother, to me, is a sacred role and one I was rather certain I was not cut out to take on.  I have watched my mother and other mothers work so very hard at doing the millions of jobs that are under the umbrella of the word “mother”.  My mother was, and in many ways, still is, my nighttime storyteller, my lullaby singer,  my live in cook, my live in entertainer, my adventure planner, my arms of comfort, my cheerleader, my navigator, my voice of common sense, my teacher of manners, my lion tamer against my fears, my friendly voice amongst the noise of unfriendliness,  the Lincoln to my Douglas, my career-driven/educated/”I am woman, hear me roar” Feminist, our family holiday event planner, the Thanksgiving turkey chef, my comfort food Iron Chef, my fashionista shopping buddy, my movie-goer/popcorn-peanut M&M sharing Siskel to my Ebert, and book-club reading reviewer.  I could handle doing one job for 90 hours a week in a firm.  I could not, however, see myself taking on the thousands of jobs my mother did for me and our family. 

That’s the funny thing about being a mother.  You never feel you are prepared for it.  You never feel you are worthy of the angel God has entrusted to you.  You never feel you are enough.  Whatever your feelings are, they are not reciprocated by your children.  To them, you are the thousands of people all rolled into one glorious deity.  You are the one person they get to call “Mommy” the rest of your lives.  You get to have the coveted role in their life that cannot be replaced by an understudy.  You will make mistakes, but they will not remember.  They will remember the memories you created.  They will remember the fun and silliness, the adventures you took them on, and the trinket reminders of sounds and smells that will forever be associated with you.

My husband often says that children get to ask God who they want for their mother and that our children picked me.  I am so eternally grateful, every day, that they asked for me. I could have never have had the courage to ask for them, as they are far more precious and beautiful than I would have dared to dream. 

Being a mother is the ultimate of “Pay-it-Forward”.  As mothers, we get to give to our children what was given to us by our mothers.  I am no longer afraid of being a mother because I get to give to my children all the bounty my mother gave to me.  On this day, whether your mother is with you or is dancing with the angels, know that you have been given the ultimate gift God can bestow.  If you are a mother, whether it was born to you or granted to you, know that you were chosen by your angel children.  You are among the chosen, which is an even greater gift from God.  Happy Mother’s Day!!!