If It's Not One Thing, It's My Mother...
So, this is a favorite saying of one of my friends. It seems that if we ever run out of things to talk about, one of us usually has something to say about someone's mother. I guess this has been going on for ages and ages, and when I pause to think about what my own kids say about me - well, it's probably better not to even go down that thought path.
I have been a mother for eighteen years and four months. This is an interesting time actually - I have been a mother exactly one-half of my life. From this point forward, my time as a mother will outnumber my pre-motherhood existence. When I look back on my life as a mother, it takes my breath away. I have gone through many different phases. As a young mother, I struggled to be the perfect mother, have the perfect child - in my mind this consisted of those polished looking moms and babies from the magazines and TV commercials. I wanted the kids who could play in the dirt, but the dirt just wouldn't stick to them. I had a personal goal to never run out of wipes, diapers, snacks, bottles, clean changes of clothes, toys, and for good measure throw in a first aid kit (or maybe two). Okay, I know now that I was a "little" obscessive and a "wee it" compulsive in those early years.
Next came the combination mother/college student/research job... Definitely NOT my favorite phase, but hey, this did pass. It felt like it took an exceptionally long time for me to get through college, but looking back, it ended up taking exactly the right amount of time to get us to where we needed to be for that next direction on our life journey.
After graduating college, came the career mom. This phase was the most difficult, for me and probably everyone else around me. Some of the struggles I faced during this time were life changing, and it is because of the hardships that I faced during the "career mom" phase that helped mold me into who I am today.
Today I am learning to embrace the face that there is "no way to be a perfect mother, but there are a million ways to be a good one." And, today, that's all I really want. As I meditate and pray before falling asleep, I review the day, and I ask God to help me the mother that He intends, not any of those crazy Stacy-imposed prototypes. I am learning to embrace the imperfections, of being a "spiritual being instead of a human doing." Just one day at a time.
I came across this poem about mothers, and wanted to share. I can identify with so many of these women. I hope you enjoy as much I did. :)
For All Mothers
This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" They could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick children in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Meyer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children. This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see and for the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes and for all the mothers who don't.
What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?
The jolt that takes you from sleeping to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
Is it the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?
I think so.
So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.
This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again, "Just one more time".
This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired two year old who wants ice cream before dinner.
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started to school and for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.
For all the mothers who bite their lips (sometimes until they bleed) when their 14 year olds dyed their hair green.
This is for all the mothers who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.
This is for all mothers who show at work with spit-up in their hair and milkstains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
This is for mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home or are grown.
This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.
This is for all the mothers whose children have gone astray and who can't find words to reach them.
This is for all the mothers who sent their child to school with a stomach ache, assuring that they would be just FINE once they got there, only to get a call from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up right away.
This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go.
For working moms and stay-at-home moms. Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with money and mothers without.
This is for you, so hang in there. The world would be a terrible place without the love of mothers everywhere. You make it a more civil, caring and safe place for the precious children in our world.
Author unknown
