So with Mother's Day in our more recent past, I've begun thinking a lot about motherhood. Two mothers in particular. One, obviously, being my own. My mother is great. The older I get, the more I realize that I am truly my mother's child. My mother and I never got along. Not in elementary school, not middle school, not high school. I always thought she was no fun. I always thought she was too serious and too brass. I thought that she was the exact opposite of me for most of my adolescence. Now that I've grown older, I realize that I'm more like my mother than I would have ever thought. It's truly frightening. If you know my mother, you know that: She's little, but she packs a wallop. She rarely ever says things she doesn't mean and she takes everything literally. She remembers most of what is said and is quick to throw it back at you, should the time ever come to do so. If you're in a bad mood, she makes pointed remarks to let you know that your attitude is ruining her attitude. She exhibits a serious lack of emotion. To all things emotional. She talks to cashiers in stores and waiters in restaurants. She sings songs outloud that are playing in stores. She ALWAYS gets a buggie, no matter what store she's in. If you know me well, you know that I have all those traits. The older I get, the more I realize that the traits I have are definitely my mother's. I have also come to realize that they're not nearly as bad as I thought they were. I don't know why I've been so adamant about turning into my mother, when I clearly already have. I've come to accept and embrace it. I've come to love it. Even the qualities that aren't so great.
The other mother I've been thinking about is a mom of one of the children I taught. As most of you know, I taught 3rd grade for 3 years. In my 3 years of teaching, I have had one child that has truly affected my life. This child drives me crazy. But it's a good crazy. The kind of crazy that even though I want to throttle him for not paying attention, I loved the feeling when he wraps his arms around my waist, puts his head on my stomach and tells me what a great person I am. Now, I admit, I was pretty hard on him. I pushed him a lot. I pushed him to do better than he was doing and pushed him to do what I think he could do. I've been thinking about this child's mother a lot lately. This child comes from a home that's a bit challenging. His mom and dad are no longer together and his father is remarried. His stepmother, try as she might, is nothing like his real mother. He is not her child. And we all know it. We all see it. We all feel it. Earlier this year, his mother died very suddenly. More recently, his father and stepmother have decided to divorce. I keep thinking about this child and how, on this Mother's Day, he has no mother to celebrate with. No mother to wrap his arms around. No mother to tuck him in at night. No mother to give him his lunch money and kiss him on the forehead and tell him to have a great day. It breaks my heart. I cannot stop thinking about the fact that his mother will never get to see him graduate from 5th grade, 8th grade, high school or college. His mother will never get to meet his first girlfriend or the love of his life. This mother will never get to dance with her son on his wedding day.
This Mother's Day, in addition to calling my own mother, I hoped and wished and crossed my fingers that this day wouldn't break his heart. I have learned to appreciate my mom for all the things she is and isn't. I have learned to appreciate the fact that my mom is still with me, even though I don't see her as often as I'd like. For everyone lucky enough to still have their mothers, I hope you were able to spend some time with (or talking to) your mothers. To all those who have lost your mothers, I hope you had a full day of rememberance. I'll be thinking of you next Mother's Day as well.
