I’ve always thought Mother’s Day isn’t long enough. A day when children and husbands show appreciation for the long hours, being underpaid, little rest, and stretch marks. Somewhere in the years of raising children and selective insanity we remember who we are and why we were chosen for this noble profession. Someone said God couldn’t be everywhere so He made “mothers”.

I remember during a routine ob visit with  baby #7 the doctor looked up from his architectural dig and asked if I’d found my niche yet? Humorously actually I had to grasp the table as not to fall off from laughing. I answered, “I don’t know doc. This motherhood thing is kinda sticking with me.” Five children later and a menagerie of trials and tribulations, joys and celebrations, we’ve made it to another mother’s day. The runny eggs and pancakes in bed, the hand picked rose and vase, the ho-made cards and wrapped fragrances are special.           

Now that we’ve championed the teenage years, I sympathize and my heart goes out to those mothers who are experiencing a difficult mother’s day as their children are grown, gone, or they may be separated at this time. Don’t give up! You’re not alone. There are others that are trying to make this day meaningful so do it by planting love. You do make a difference in your child’s life, though it feels like hugging a porcupine.

Motherhood hasn’t come easy. If I had a dollar for every time I threatened to resign from the “Crucible” of mothering I’d be wealthy. Motherhood is humbling, just when we think we’re all that and a bag of chips. Children teach us to giggle; to jump, skip, and attempt a cartwheel. Sometimes we get so busy training and instructing, keeping everyone on track, and remembering to pick this one up that we feel like an air-traffic controller. Pace yourselves. That’s when Lamaze breathing could be beneficial. Children help us remember simple joys in life: the sun on our faces, the grass beneath our toes. We find ourselves in our children.

What’s important is how we loved them, which determines how they love others. If I had a quarter for every time the thought to open a window and toss one out came to me as they threw a temper–tantrum in the checkout lane, I could take an expensive vacation. That wouldn’t involve going into labor and resting overnight at the hospital. But if I had a nickel for every time I kissed a cheek or sweet baby feet, wiped a tear, or every time a little smile carried me through the day; or my heart has pounded and I caught my breath over my love for them, then perhaps the whole world couldn’t hold the riches I’d have. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Thank you Lord for unexpected blessings. The smallest often become the greatest treasures.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Angela