I remember the last Mother’s Day that I was a mother of two. The idyllic breakfast in bed scene devolved into a fist fight. As I recall, everyone had big feelings about carrying the tray. I stripped the bed and threw my comforter in the wash. Fuming that MY DAY began this way; with laundry. Aughh! I then barked at everyone to get ready for church. In our pew, the ruckus reignited and after church my Mother’s Day gift to myself was a closed bedroom door, a good cry and a nap. I wanted a refund.
Now I remember that day whimsically as I do so many of the moments which at the time horrified, befuddled, angered and disappointed me. Most of the worries which used to steal my sleep and twist my stomach into knots are now utterly irrelevant. Hindsight shows them for the lavish misappropriation of my time and energy they were all along. Had I been more patient and determined to see the bigger picture, I would have taken a beat before reacting. I may have chosen to count the thousands of ways I was blessed before I chose to adorn myself with the mumu of disappointment, seeing only the ways in which MY ONE DAY OF THE YEAR could have been more serene.
What perspective would we assume if we treated these beautiful souls in our family as the gifts loaned to us that they are? I probably should have had my kids climb into bed with me, (separated of course,) take a moment to calm down and breathe deeply. I would have called the dogs to lick the strawberry jam off of my comforter instead of storming off for the Spray & Wash like they had sullied the Shroud of Turin. What I realize now is that if we are smiled upon enough to ever have the gift of parenting, that is the reward. They are ours. And we wish away those days, even the tough ones, to our own detriment.
Tomorrow may be a day of government cheese for you or a feast of prime rib. You may be showered with homemade cards or scalded with spilled coffee. You may be sick with this horrible COVID-19 Virus or have lost your business because of it. You may have realized that you have less control about more aspects of life than ever before. Your stomach may very well feel like a Wetzel’s Pretzel but what if you chose to take a breath and simply be grateful for the life you have…just as it is? Don’t miss the mark like I did by squandering the imperfect reality which is your messy, beautiful life.
Please share how you can treasure those around you tomorrow on Mother’s Day.