I hope all my mommy friends out there had a fabulous day yesterday. Mine was busy, filled with my children, who, God bless their hearts, were trying really hard to be good. Doctor Dash is working nights right now, so most of the day, we were on our own. At one point in the morning, after the chitlins had loved me up with hugs and kisses and little wrapped presents of their own creation and I had whipped up blueberry pancakes and Canadian bacon for all to celebrate, the three of them sat down at the dining room table to draw and color. They were laughing and chatting, heads bent to their papers, passing each other markers with pleases and thank-yous. I’m not gonna lie, it was a little freaky. It was as if by some secret prior understanding, they had agreed to keep themselves busy AND get along and set to it right after breakfast. I passed by once. Passed by again. They didn’t seem to notice my stares of incredulity, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and the NY Times and high-tailed it to the sunroom where I got a rare and lovely half hour of paper time. The spell was broken when they barged in to show me their work, so the girls and I took a walk to the store to buy steaks for dinner (because what else would this mama want to eat on HER day?). We stopped by Red Vogue and Salt & Pepper’s for a long overdue chat on our way home.
By twelve thirty, it was time to head out to Supergirl’s soccer game. It rained a warm rain, forcing Saint James and Devil Baby to huddle with me under the umbrella, so no complaints. As if on cue, to make me proud as a peacock, Supergirl scored three goals and got the MVP award from the other team’s coach. Man, her face as she jogged off the field towards us at the end of the game was priceless – all smiles and wet plastered hair – she looked like the happiest drowned rat in the history of drowned rats. Remember last year when she started traveling soccer and I was having my girl power moment? Well, it all still holds. I re-read those couple posts the other day and as I was watching her get carried around piggy-back style after the game by another girl, both of them wet, muddy and jubilant, I felt like all is as it should be. That messy, joyous, well-earned victory is exactly what these little girls need. And the mamas on the sidelines couldn’t have been happier after an hour in the pouring rain. It was the essence of vicarious happiness for us.
After a lazy afternoon and a yummy dinner, we all walked to the lake and hung out at the beach. The sun was back out, just in time to scatter its fading tangerine light over everything. Turns out our whole family can fit up on the lifeguard platform at the same time. I swear, every time I clamber up there, I feel like a teenager. The kids climbed trees, Dash and I watched the water and the planes. I don’t know what we talked about or whether we talked at all. It was just nice to sit together on a perch with our brood scampering around below. On the way home, Devil Baby spotted two owls in a tree, which is cause for major excitement in this family.
It occurs to me that Mother’s Day, like mothering, is an ever changing thing. As a family, we don’t have any established traditions, aside from being together and being outside (and apparently, Dash browbeating the kids not to fight). I like keeping it loose, deciding on a whim what feels like fun. On our walk in the morning I saw tons of dads out with babies and toddlers, no doubt giving their wives a badly needed break. I’m not saying I never need a break, but I think I’m past the years of needing a break on Mother’s Day. My kids no longer physically exhaust me. I’m not chasing and wiping and nursing anymore. I don’t have kids physically attached to me for a major portion of the day. They are most definitely and completely other.
Now, more than ever, I feel like I’m in the gravy years of parenting. My kids actually WANT to be with me and I with them. Soon that will change, and then, when they’re sullen teens, we will force them to be with me on Mother’s Day because it’s the right thing to do. And what of our mothers, I wonder? The mothers whose children are grown, whose children have families of their own? I wonder what it feels like for my mother and my mother-in-law on Mother’s Day. Many of their children don’t live near them and the most they can expect is a phone call on this day. And yet, without them, none of what we have would even exist. Do they feel longing, for the years gone by? Do they feel a bit of the vicarious happiness I felt at Supergirl’s soccer game – only deeper and more well-deserved? Bittersweet, I imagine.
We will all be there some day, on a different point of the arc of motherhood. Bittersweet, indeed.
So, happy happy Mother’s Day to the brand spanking new mamas (Delicious Apple, I’m looking at you!), to the seasoned mamas (all my dear friends, you know who you are) and especially to the mama who gave me Doctor Dash and the mama who gave me my life, my self, my know-how. You both deserve all the love, gratitude and smooches in the world, because as you well know, and as I’m in the process of discovering, this motherhood gig – it ain’t easy!
