Today was Mother’s Day, that famous second Sunday in May when wee kids and their dads (or partners!) present adorable attempts at breakfast in bed to slightly anxious moms, one part enamored and grateful, the other, possibly fidgety to just get out of bed and have a cup of coffee in the kitchen with everyone else. There are handmade cards and crafty jewelry boxes and personalized birdhouses; usually there are flowers, maybe balloons and even a brunch. Mothers get showered with attention and affection, perhaps a spa day, as well they should: most moms I know including my own work their asses off (with or without jobs outside the home) just to keep the family trains running on time. I mostly watch this holiday from afar, since my mom lives two states away, but I am mindful that she loves to receive the attention in the form of cards and flowers and a phone call. This year she even got a handmade present from me, a photo I took of my brother and nephew, blown-up to impressive proportions.
Motherhood was on my mind a lot more this year. Not only is my job centered on raising awareness about the plight kids and families face in our country, but I am no longer a spring chicken with lots of time for courtship and pregnancy and baby-having. For the past year, I have really tried to let it sink in that I will probably not be a mom. Part of the problem is that for the whole other 40 years of my life, I had just assumed I would be, so reconciling this in the last 12 months all of the sudden got real tender this weekend.
My life is full and beautiful and blessed. I am grateful every day for my good health and family and friends and colleagues and dogs and hummingbirds and the beach and ice cream and electricity and sunsets and laughter and Ugg boots and clean sheets and glitter and soccer and bacon and airplanes and maps and step-kids and wine and music and bikinis and mountains and tissues which I need right now…
Happy Mother’s Day to all a y’all and please, please be kind to each other, ladies. It really does take a village.