Not Just Another Sappy Mother's Day Poem {Okay...Maybe A Little}

With Mother's Day just around the weekend, I thought I'd share some of my favorite images of the mothers in my family.

 My sister-in-law and my niece

Well, of course.  I'm not just going to leave them un-commented on.  You know that.  I just wanted to give you a minute to get settled.

'Cause you know I've stuff to say.....

I'm being inundated with essays and poems about how wonderful it is to be a mother.  The joy that comes from bringing a life into this world.  Giving it all the love and guidance that it needs to grow.  Even when you don't have it to give, and you just have to dig in and keep going.  Keep giving.

My other sister-in-law and my niece the day she was born

(Taken by my brother, by the way.  Nice job, Kaje.)

That's all lovely, and many times I do feel that way, but can I take a moment here and just (and I really don't want to say this because I loathe this phrase with every fiber of the breath in my body)

Keep it real? (*gag*)

Being a mom is hard.  Really hard. 

Like kick you in the crotch, step on your neck, gauge out your eyes with an ice pick hard.  Really.

Someone once told me that children are a gift.  You know what I said?

The only people who say that are the people who don't have them.

Because the people who have them know what it really is.

My son and I two years ago

It's up at dawn.

It's everything a mess.

It's everything broken.  And if it's not broken, just wait a minute.  It will be.

It's a constant state of feeding.  Which means constantly cleaning up dishes and washing out cups.

It's laundry.  So much laundry that it takes two DVR episodes of Grey's Anatomy and a 90 minute Glee to fold it all.

My sister-in-law and my nephew walking together on the beach at sunset

It's burying your romance in the backyard because you just don't have a minute to do anything with it.  And even if you did, all you want to do with that minute is sit...and be quiet....and go to sleep.  In fact, never touch me again.

It's questions and problems and fix this and do that.

It's eating too fast so you can get a hot meal before you have to stop and do something for someone.  And then your husband makes fun of you because you're always eating like a vacuum cleaner, and you don't care because if you don't just shove it in, you won't get another chance to eat for the next three days.

It's the last one to bed, and the first one to get up in the morning.  And sometimes that means getting up the night before so you can have just a moment of peace before the onslaught of the morning comes crashing into your coffee cup.

It's always being late.  Always.

My mother and my brother

It's everything's an argument. 

It's eating left over sandwich crusts and cold french fries because it's easier and takes less energy than putting together an Asian salad and some lemon water.

It's covered in every bodily fluid possible and never getting grossed out.

It's letting the pillow be your hairdresser, and...really...being okay with that.

It's moving like lightening, just so you can wait for the slug.

My sister-in-law and my niece reading baby magazines at sunset

It's spending two hours sweating over a hot stove, and burning your hand in the oven, only to be met with "Why did you make this?" followed by "I don't like it," and concluding with "Ewww...gross!." 

It's redefining "Parenthood" to include the term "animal tamer".

It's never getting time for yourself.

It's giving everything you have away.

It's always running on empty with no fill-up station in sight.

It's being last on the list.

My mother and my niece playing hide and seek

It's fear that you'll never get it right.

It's terror that they'll grow up only remembering how you yelled at them and never let them have any fun.

It's never wanting them to roll their eyes while you're talking to them on the phone because even though they love you, they've heard this story fourteen times and don't want to sit through it once more.

It's always being expected and never getting thanked.

And then someone takes some construction paper and some green pipe cleaners and a hole punch and some tape and makes you, truly, the most beautiful bouquet of flowers you've ever been given.  She hands them to you and says,

Here, Mom.  I made this for you for Mother's Day 'cause you're the best mom in the whole world.  Mom's like flowers, right?

(She has to ask because you're just standing there, not moving...and crying.)

As you hold that bouquet of paper flowers, and look through the blur of your tears into that most perfect face that has nothing but love for you, you realize that none of the other stuff matters.

You will get it right.

You will find the strength.

You will rest and eat and be clean again.

And they will be alright, because they love you more than anyone has ever loved anything in the whole history of the universe. 

And you love them more.