There is no "holiday" that tears me up more than Mother's Day. I can barely read the cards at the store before my vision becomes fuzzy and blurry with tears. I just can't hold it together. It all started during my pregnancy with Sully. I thought it was just pregnancy hormones that had me fast walking out of Target wiping my eyes only to get to my car and ugly cry after reading 5 Mother's Day cards. But every Mother's Day since then, the same thing has happened. I used to think it was funny to get my parents super mushy cards on Mother's Day and Father's Day as to leave them all choked up and red-eyed. Now I try to get nice, simple, to-the-point cards. Because, frankly, I just can't get through them without being in a puddle of my own tears.
Take the "card" I got from Sully this year. Card is put in quotes because it was 2 pieces of lined paper that Clayton wrote Sully's responses to questions on. It read:
My favorite part of you is your foots.
I also love your eyeballs.
I love that your are fun. Here is a truck:
I liked when your teached me about lightning.
And taked me to the zoo.
I love you.
Happy Mother's Day.
I could have broke out into an ugly cry after that but held it together as to not alarm the poor child. I don't know, something must be wrong with me...
Or maybe I am just incredibly honored to be a mother.
To join an elite group of women that have helped shape, nurture, care and love me.
I could not be more blessed to have such fantastic role models. Add to them my aunts, sisters-in-law, mother-in-law and my amazing group of friends, and I have to be the luckiest woman on Earth to be surrounded by so much love.
Motherhood has humbled me, frustrated me, given me joy, cut down my confidence then built it back up, exhausted me, given me meaning, made me question all kinds of things about myself, given me more patience than I ever thought I was capable of having, made me laugh, broken me to pieces and then built me up stronger than I have ever been. It is tough. Everyday. But that's OK. It is not supposed to be easy to love so deeply and unconditionally. To love tiny tyrants like these:
To allow them to walk around with your whole heart. Because surely they will bruise it, drop it on the floor a million times, get it all sticky, bury it in the sandbox, cough directly on it, drool all over it and them trip on it. Your heart takes a beating. But in the end, it is stronger, bigger and more full than it was before. Than it ever could have been without that beating.
Thank you to all the mothers, grandmothers and those women who love like mothers. Thanks for taking a beating. Thanks for hanging in there when it was really hard. You are doing an amazing job.