The Definition of Mother's Day
Mother’s Day was yesterday. I’ve spent most of today talking with all of my other mother friends about how our days were. How sweet hubbies and kids were or what utter slackers husbands turned out to be. Got me to thinking how strange Mother’s Day has become.
In theory, it’s a day to celebrate mothers for everything they do for each and every one of us. What it winds up being though is a test. A test for husbands and fathers and children to see what spectacularly wonderful thing they can concoct to lavish the mother/wife in their lives. A test for mother’s to see how we’ll react to whatever is presented to us.
My first instinct when thinking about what I want from Mother’s Day is a break. I want a quiet house with no children, no husband. I want to recapture a bit of the freedom I had before I became a mother. What strikes me is how strange it is that on the day created to honor mothers, I (and most of the other women I know) strive to forget for the day that we are mothers. We want a day that takes us back to our before motherhood being. We want to sleep in. We want breakfast in bed. We want quiet and freedom and simplicity.
How strange is that? So I wind up feeling like I should instead spend the day with my family being the best mother I can be. That in order to celebrate my being as a mother, I need to be actively mothering. In every minute of the day. And so wind up at the end of the day very tired and moderately resentful that I didn’t get a day off. What is it about mothers, and women in general, that we spend all day asking for, and fully expecting to receive, what we want and need of our children, husbands, friends, coworkers and bosses, but even if we are know what we want and need for ourselves, we are completely unable to ask for it. Let alone expect to receive it.
When I was younger I was so full of expectations for myself, and was utterly unafraid to demand that those expectations be met. While I am still unabashed in my expectations of others and when it comes to responsibility and being a mother, myself as well, I find that I no longer expect myself to be happy, beautiful or excited about any of it. There was a time when I expected myself to not only succeed in everything I did to the highest extent, but to do it with style. Now I just try to get my teeth brushed everyday.
When did the ideas of mother and beautiful become mutually exclusive in my mind? Why I can’t I celebrate my happiness in being a mother on Mother’s Day instead of only that which I’ve sacrificed and/or worked myself to the bone for? Mother’s Day has almost turned into a day to glorify the martyrs of motherhood instead of truly a day to celebrate the being of mother.
I want to celebrate my ability to grow, carry and birth a new life. I want to celebrate my ability to soothe with song and breast in the middle of the night. I want to celebrate my ability to guide with strong voice and body. I want to celebrate the gift of my children and what they’ve given me.
I want to look in the mirror on Mother’s Day and think, celebrate yourself you beautiful mama. And then I want to believe it.
In theory, it’s a day to celebrate mothers for everything they do for each and every one of us. What it winds up being though is a test. A test for husbands and fathers and children to see what spectacularly wonderful thing they can concoct to lavish the mother/wife in their lives. A test for mother’s to see how we’ll react to whatever is presented to us.
My first instinct when thinking about what I want from Mother’s Day is a break. I want a quiet house with no children, no husband. I want to recapture a bit of the freedom I had before I became a mother. What strikes me is how strange it is that on the day created to honor mothers, I (and most of the other women I know) strive to forget for the day that we are mothers. We want a day that takes us back to our before motherhood being. We want to sleep in. We want breakfast in bed. We want quiet and freedom and simplicity.
How strange is that? So I wind up feeling like I should instead spend the day with my family being the best mother I can be. That in order to celebrate my being as a mother, I need to be actively mothering. In every minute of the day. And so wind up at the end of the day very tired and moderately resentful that I didn’t get a day off. What is it about mothers, and women in general, that we spend all day asking for, and fully expecting to receive, what we want and need of our children, husbands, friends, coworkers and bosses, but even if we are know what we want and need for ourselves, we are completely unable to ask for it. Let alone expect to receive it.
When I was younger I was so full of expectations for myself, and was utterly unafraid to demand that those expectations be met. While I am still unabashed in my expectations of others and when it comes to responsibility and being a mother, myself as well, I find that I no longer expect myself to be happy, beautiful or excited about any of it. There was a time when I expected myself to not only succeed in everything I did to the highest extent, but to do it with style. Now I just try to get my teeth brushed everyday.
When did the ideas of mother and beautiful become mutually exclusive in my mind? Why I can’t I celebrate my happiness in being a mother on Mother’s Day instead of only that which I’ve sacrificed and/or worked myself to the bone for? Mother’s Day has almost turned into a day to glorify the martyrs of motherhood instead of truly a day to celebrate the being of mother.
I want to celebrate my ability to grow, carry and birth a new life. I want to celebrate my ability to soothe with song and breast in the middle of the night. I want to celebrate my ability to guide with strong voice and body. I want to celebrate the gift of my children and what they’ve given me.
I want to look in the mirror on Mother’s Day and think, celebrate yourself you beautiful mama. And then I want to believe it.
posted by at 9:14 PM
3 Comments:
neato. now that's some perspective on motherhood I would never have attained.
on a completely unrelated note,
mother's day is one of the few times of the year I'm glad my mother is dead. it's like a get out of bullshit free card.
anyhoo, thanks for the window, mosaica!
That's why they pay me the big bucks...;)
mwah!
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