For the moms

Here’s the thing about Mother’s Day:

It’s typically kind of… underwhelming.

No matter how prepared I think I am, I’ve traditionally been disappointed in my Mother’s Day celebration. And I’ve heard other moms say this, so it’s not just me.

Not because my family doesn’t TRY. They DO.

But they don’t get it. Which means, I think I’m doing it right.

I certainly didn’t get it before I was a mom. And I WORSHIPPED my mom. (Of course, that’s not terribly surprising. I think everybody worships my mom. Because, you know, damn. She set the bar HIGH. And looks amazing doing it!)

Now I will say after informing my husband that Mother’s Day kinda sucks, he went out of his way to prove me wrong this year.

This is one of those times when his bulldozer ambition works in my favor.

He took me to James Taylor on Wednesday night. Took all five of us to dinner Thursday night. Took me out for Mexican Friday night. Treated me to a spa day on Saturday, got me Taco Bell on Saturday night, took the three of us to Chili’s today after church.

Seriously. I don’t know if this will be sustainable, but my Mother’s Day weekend ROCKED.

But the thing is, my life as a mom has been pretty wonderful of late. My family is so appreciative. I get sincere thank-yous for every load of laundry, every cooked meal, the rare occasion that I clean.

Plus the kids are older. Beau is a rising senior, Sydney a rising sophomore and Caroline a rising middle schooler. Beau can drive, Sydney will be able to at the beginning of next school year. Caroline has been ferociously independent for most of her life. They can feed themselves, do laundry, all potty trained (obviously). So much of the manual labor of momming is over.

But you know, there are lots of moms out there whose Mother’s Day still lack a deep appreciation. The kind of appreciation that can only comes from another mom. So please allow me the privilege of thanking you.

Thank you, moms of newborns and toddlers. I know you haven’t slept in years. I know you probably don’t recognize yourself in the mirror. I know you feel like your wifing has gone down the drain because of all the momming. And I know some days, you just want to run away. Girl, I got you! I know it feels like it will never end, but this is only a (brutal) season.

(Ladies, if you know a mom of little bitties, PLEASE feed her. Take the baby so she can take a nap. Do the laundry for her. Bring her some food. All kids need more than one mom.)

Thank you, moms of school-aged kids. I know you feel like you’re doing all their homework. (Please don’t actually DO it for them.) I know you’re in the car ALL DAY running kids here and there. I know you haven’t had a real Saturday in years. I know trying to get your whole family to the table for dinner is an exercise in futility. My beloved D-Daddy used to say, “The best years of your life are when all the kids are home.” And he lived to his early nineties. He KNEW what he was talking about.

(You moms need to make friends with your other neighborhood moms and start a carpool to various activities. Also, become adept at Crock-Pot cookery. It will save money since you won’t have to get fast food all the time. And it will save your LIFE.)

Thank you, moms of college-aged kids. I know you thought you’d feel relieved and on your better days, you do. But you weren’t planning on the emptiness of the empty nest. Here’s your chance to catch up on sleep. Send care packages. Pick up those hobbies that have been on hold for the past two decades. Rediscover your own awesomeness. Your kids are still watching you. Show them how to LIVE.

(Plan some girl trips with your other mom friends. Commiserate about how much you miss your kids. And celebrate your renewed freedom.)

Thank you, moms of grown kids. I know you’re trying to figure out your role in your kids’ lives. You still have lots of good suggestions and advice, but you’re not sure where the line is. I know some of you are grandmothers, some of you LONG to be grandmothers. Your kids still need you.

(This is when you ask your kids what they need. And be that. My mom has come down for several surgeries this year. And she always brings food. Offer to babysit for free. Plan a trip to visit and take your kid out to lunch or dinner and catch up.)

Thank you, single moms. Maybe you’re divorced. Maybe you were never married. Maybe you’re a widow. Maybe the father is still involved in their lives, which can feel almost as excruciating as the broken relationship. Maybe you’ve only ever always been on your own. I know you miss your kids events because you have to work. I know you come home from work to help with homework, to cook, to clean, to be a mom AND a dad. You unstop toilets. You kill bugs. You go without so your kids can have what they need. I applaud you.

(We all know single moms. They need help but they probably won’t ask for it. Show up with food. Clean their house while they’re at work. Do their laundry. Buy them flowers. Let them know they are SEEN and appreciated.)

Thank you, moms who placed your kids for adoption. It was probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. But it was so unselfish. You gave your baby life. You gave another family a child. The best moms love their kids more than themselves. And if placing your baby for adoption isn’t loving that kid more than yourself. I don’t know what is. I thank you. And the family who adopted your child thanks you. Every day.

Thank you, moms who have adopted children. You guys are fearless. You didn’t exactly know what you were getting into. And you didn’t care. You just cared for a baby that wasn’t yours, but enough to BE yours. You gave a child a home who needed a home. And it’s hard. Every adopted child speaks another language. One that you don’t understand because they came from a different world, domestic or international. Maybe they have health problems you weren’t prepared for. Maybe they are taking every bit of mom you have in you. Rock on, adopted moms. Rock on.

Thank you, stepmoms. Ladies, this is not an easy gig. Raising children that aren’t yours but belong to your husband from another life, from another mother, a mother who will ALWAYS have their hearts. Maybe your stepkids hate you. Maybe they love you. Maybe you’re loving them while not liking them AT ALL. Maybe your energy is spent from all the high roads you’ve had to take. Maybe your husband has no idea how hurt you are, how tired you are, how you’ve had to up your game to superhero level because the persistent, unrelenting and maybe even undeserved love you keep putting out there and putting out there, hoping someday it might be returned. And knowing full well that it’s a 50-50 chance.

Thank you, moms who have lost children. Maybe they weren’t born yet. Maybe they were young. Maybe they were grown. But every child lost is always too young. There is a unique, excruciatingly deep pain in the heart of a grieving mother. The miracle of giving life feels annulled by the life that was taken. You were robbed. There is no question. And as you try to keep moving forward, your friends and family feel powerless. They try not to talk about your child because it might make you sad. What they don’t realize is you live sad. And it is actually a relief to know that someone else remembers your child and for a moment when you speak of him or her, they feel a little closer. The sadness is neverending and I know you don’t want to eat, you don’t want to sleep, you don’t want to take another breath without your offspring in this world. But you keep showing up. You amaze me.

I applaud all of you moms. I applaud the aunts, the grandmothers, the teachers, the friends who serve as stand-in moms when the moms can’t be all things to all people. We women, well, we get it. Biological mom or not. Our heart beats to care, to help, to love, love, love. Thank you all. For the seen, for the unseen. For the appreciated, for the unappreciated. I know I can’t know what every one goes through. But I know enough to know you’re working so hard in a way that I haven’t experienced but admire nonetheless.

You are changing the world, one moment at a time. And it counts. Every moment counts. Buy yourself a little treat. Let people help you. Apologize when you blow it. Give yourself grace.

I see you. I appreciate you. And I’m here for you. All my love to you today.