Mothers Day is fast approaching. I've spent the last several days putting together my ideas that will further cement me into the mortar of sibling rivalry as Mom's Favorite. Despite what my brothers and sisters would tell you, I'm certain I achieved that title years ago, and everything I do now just solidifies that position. Really. Don't bother asking them. What do they know?
I have an incredibly wonderful, beautiful mother. I don't think I realized it half as much when I was still under her constant care as I do now. It's the ironic thing about motherhood: By the time you figure out how completely amazing your mom is, you've moved out and started your own family.
That's what did it of course -- the starting my own family bit. I never really saw the noble character of my mother until I became a mother myself; and one day in the midst of changing diapers, driving carpool, this morning's cocoa pebbles still floating in the soup bowls I need for dinner right now, the endless piles of laundry that never seem to go away no matter how many loads I manage to push through in an hour, the science project gone bad in the dining room, and forgetting to put the tooth fairy money under the pillow -- again, I see clearly the incredible ability, talent, and moxie my mom has. ...WAY more incredible than anything I possess.
Last year for Mother's Day, the graduating high school seniors were asked to stand up in church and give tributes to their mothers. Those were good mothers. We were regaled with wonderful tales of these women; one who never made her child wake up to the sound of an alarm clock, but instead quietly (and I'm sure drippingly lovingly) whispered into her son's ear to bring him into wakefulness each morning. (At my house my kids have a choice of "buzzer" or "shock beep.") Another mother always let her daughter have the last piece of cake. (For my children, that would go something more along the lines of "Mom, can I..?" "BACK OFF! This piece is MINE! I MADE this cake, and so help me, I will EAT the LAST PIECE if I want!") The queen bee of mothers spent hours staying up late waiting for her daughter to come home from a night out, whereupon they would stay up for hours longer talking and laughing together. (My kids, quite frankly, aren't allowed out of the house past 7:30 pm, since I'm lucky if I can keep my eyes open past 8:12. Forget hours of talking and laughing. I'm already LONG gone.)
I can sum up my feelings at the end of that meeting with one word: Huh.
Imagine that. In one hour I realized my place in the Mother's Day Tributes of the future will be somewhere in the "My mom let us eat all the cold cereal we wanted" realm. I'll be forever immortalized as the one who, if nothing else, made dinner two of every seven evenings. I'm not so sure my children will rise up and call me blessed so much as loud. Don't believe me?
Recently Morgs was asked to give a talk in Primary. Her topic? Mothers. Golden. I wrote down several fill-in-the-blank statements for her that, read in succession, would make a beautiful tribute to a glorious mother. They were statements such as, "I love my mom because..." and "My mom teaches me..."
Really, she filled in all the blanks as if I'd coached her. It was perfect. Until she read aloud her answer to "When I'm hungry, my mom..."
Obviously I'm going for "makes me my favorite dinner, with healthy, fresh food from each of the food groups, and sometimes even a heavenly dessert."
Instead, I got, "When I'm hungry, my mom tells me a list of what I can make myself to eat."
...Now that's a good mom.
Looks like the jig's up. I'll never make Mother of the Year now.
Whatever.
Happy Mother's Day anyway.
10 comments:
Nonsense. You're mother of the year no battle.
Have I mentioned how much I love your posts?
Oh Marianne! Honestly, I think you are one of the most amazing mothers around. I'm serious. I have often thought about how I could be a mom who is more like you. Here's why:
You teach your kids to laugh...yet never at the expense of others.
Your kids have a healthy self-esteem and it's because they know you absolutely adore them unconditionally.
You teach your children that everyone needs a friend. As a mother of a friend of Morgs' it means so much to know that she is always Sunshine's friend.
You have such a talent for celebrating your children's talents and show them how to share them with others (which is another really great gift you bring to the world yourself).
I know you weren't wanting a huge list of your 'pros' or anything, but I just couldn't resist letting you know just how truly amazing you are. One of these days I hope I can emulate some of these awesome traits. You ROCK, sista!
Well I don't quite agree with your "not making the mother of the year" quote. I have always looked to you and dave as the magic mom and dad! I hope someday to become Half the women you are :)
What do you mean, what kind of a mom does that make you?! What better thing can you teach your child than to be self-sufficient? Much better than making something super nice for her if she's hungry.
By the by, we all know who the favorite child is...keep thinking it's you. Just because you give Dad a beautiful, large picture of you and he happens to keep it on his desk still doesn't mean you're the fav...it only means that he's sensitive to the fact that you need a little more attention than the rest of us!
Love ya Mar!
I had a very similar convo with Peter last night. Not about you not being the mother of the year, but about how it feels like everyone else excells at some part of motherhood, and I just seem to limp along in all areas. I know it's not really true, but it feels that way sometimes.
If it makes you feel any better, I think you would be the ULTIMATE YW president. Now that's somethin'!
BTW- I read "Wait 'Till Helen Comes" multiple times as a pre-teen, I'd love to read it again.
Whenever I am in an INSANE motherly position I as myself "what would Marianne do" :) No lie!! You have survived the storms and come out glowing. Not to mention surviving twins!! I love you and in my book you have already one the mother of the year award numerous times!!!
I have to say, you are all WAY too nice to me. And I really wasn't digging for compliments.
But I'll take em...
;)
Marianne, you are hilarious as always. Thanks for saying what so many of us feel at the end of a long day with kids. Your kids love you, that's success in my book!
I'm not buyin it. We all know this post was crafted specifically for just that very thing. And we all fell for it! That's the pathetic thing. We were the putty in your artful little hands. That's it - my next post is going to be "I'm so sad that I puff up like a blimp all over when I'm expecting," and I'll see if I can draw an equally flattering response. Nicely done.
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