I know not everybody has a close relationship with their mother. Even mine has not always been close. It has been a blessing of extra time that has allowed me to rectify that in my own life, whereas I know others may not have been as lucky.
As a society, we tend to look at our parents, and our mothers in particular, to pin point all the ways they went wrong in raising us. To blame them for our issues. To recall specific events or moments in time that scarred us for life. Ok. Your mother wasn’t perfect and neither was mine. But the majority of mothers are doing the best they can under immense pressure.
If a child is sick, it is generally expected that the mother will take time off work. Or arrange alternative care. As if she doesn’t feel guilty enough already for working outside the home! Except if she doesn’t work outside the home and then she feels guilty for not contributing and being another burdensome dependent. Many studies have proven women are still expected to do more of the house and caregiving duties on top of working and often cooking too. She is usually responsible for paying the bills, making sure kid’s lunches are made, uniforms are washed, and that anybody who has costume day at school has a costume and the obligatory gold coins to raise money. She is the one arranging doctor’s appointments and teacher’s meetings. She is the one behind the scenes making sure everyone else’s life runs as smoothly as possible.
Remember that wonderful birthday party you had as a kid? Yeah, she was behind that. She bought the stuff, after budgeting for it well in advance, and spent all night making the castle cake from woman’s day. She put up the decorations. She bought and wrapped the gifts. She sent out the invitations. She navigated the RSVP’s. For her birthday that year you probably did nothing. If you were anything like my kids are now, you probably complained as though it was torture when you were asked to sign your own name in the card that someone else bought!
Of course, you were a child, right? That was a mother’s role! But I bet many of you as adults have still never bothered to put in as much effort into her birthday as she put into yours?! Instead, you focus on the times she wasn’t at assembly to watch you get that award, or the times she left you with the sitter even though you were sick and you needed her. You know why those memories stick out? Because they were probably few and far between.
It was your mother who helped you mend your friendships along the way. It was her who helped you with your first resume and drove you to and from that part time job, and everywhere else so you could have a social life. She put hers on hold, if you think about it, so you could have yours. She was the one believing in you and cheering on the sidelines. She was the one consoling your broken heart.
Now that I am a mother myself, and I openly acknowledge that I did not and could not appreciate this before then, I had no idea how much of herself my mother gave me. How much of herself she lost or put aside in order to be my mother. A title that by nature requires you not to be anything else at the same time and never ever to make any mistakes.
My mother took me to playgroup. She took me to the park. I ignored her there and played with other kids. As I got older, she took me shopping in an attempt to bond, and I really just used it as an excuse to get new things and complain. When I suffered heart breaks, she tried to talk to me and I shut her out, desperately wanting my independence from her nosy and unwelcome influence. When she asked for the smallest acts of help around the house, I retorted that I was not her slave. (No, she was mine!)
I never asked her how her day was. I never made any effort. I never appreciated anything she did for me. I never acknowledged that she was her own woman with hopes and dreams and feelings of her own. I didn’t listen when she tried to tell me about her childhood. I broke her heart every step of the way. And yet she never gave up on me.
This mother’s day I want to thank her for all that she did. Point out that I remember colouring in with her, playing games (and being a sore loser) washing my dolls clothes with tiny pegs, having little tea parties and picnics, going on shopping trips and camping trips and holidays. Thank you for doing so much to try and make sure I had a happy life. For putting yourself aside and always doing your best.
Thank you for our movie days and long lunches and all the babysitting you have offered my kids so that I can enjoy the things you didn’t get to on your own motherhood journey. Thank you for supporting this blog and never holding my ungratefulness against me.
Thank you for trying to better understand me when you would rather not, for accepting my partners and pets even when they weren’t what you would have chosen for me. For helping me have a place to live and then a place to own when times were tougher. You really have gone above and beyond, and I really do acknowledge everything big and small you have done selflessly every step of the way. Things you continue to do. Things you never complain about doing.
You were my first friend, even if I didn’t see it that way at the time, you are my oldest friend, and I really cherish every moment I have to get to know you as a friend. To finally listen to your stories and your own hopes and dreams, triumphs and failures, friendships and family.
Happy Mother’s Day Mumma. I love you. But more than that, I like you. Thank you for being the best friend I could ever ask for and more.
❤ Love,
Your Best Friend ForNever
xx
