The Struggle of Mother's Day

This Sunday in May is just another day for some. For others it is a day to celebrate Mothers, to remember all they have done for us, and what being a mother is.
I am not the most maternal person in the world. Oh I love my munchkins with all that is in me, I would do anything within my power to ensure they are happy. The not so perfect breakfast is perfect in it's flaws because it is made with love. The gifts are different as my mother in law would say, but the response she got was, 'well we are different and mum will like it'. And I do.
Motherhood is a strange thing. The way people speak about it makes you sometimes think that we all experience it the same way. Nothing could be further from the truth. When I was a first time mother I tried heaps of things I was told to and I sucked at a bunch of them. It made me feel like a bit of a failure. There have been plenty of things over the last 14 years that have made me feel that way. It can be a hard feeling to deal with, especially when society says motherhood is natural and right, implying that it is easy.
Sometimes being a mother is the hardest thing in the world and for me what made it so much more difficult was not having my mother with me on this journey. She wanted nothing more than to have grandkids to dote on. It was not to be. She died when my eldest was 3 months old and she was the only grandchild my adorable mother got to hold.
Cancer is a bitch.
Still I muddled my way through and some days I think I've done a fairly passable job. Other days I want to bang my head on the nearest wall until I pass out, or hide curled up in the foetal position in some corner somewhere. My munchkins are awesome, except when they aren't. I will always love them but geez they can drive me nutty, though I know there are some who believe I'm well beyond that point.
Mother's Day for me is hard because it is a day that really drives home the fact my Mother never got to be a grandmother. There are so many things over the years I have longed to share with her. So many issues I would have wished her advice on. So many tears that I've shed because of this simple fact.
I know I am not the only person who struggles with this day. Nor am I the only type of person who struggles. There are those whose mothers don't inspire thoughts that make them warm and happy inside. There are those whose mothers in fact inspire the opposite. Some parents are toxic and dangerous, sad as that fact is to dwell on. So for those people Mother's day is a day best to be ignored. The best we can do for those people is to understand. Don't force them to acknowledge what could be painful and also be there in case they want to talk about it.
Mothers don't have to be the people that gave birth to us either, there are plenty of step mothers, adoptive and foster mothers out there. There are those for whom children are not an option for one reason or another; some by choice, some by design. They may chose to be a mother of a different variety or not at all. This does not make them any less women.
Honour those who blessed your lives but please remember not everyone has happy thoughts on this day.

Mother's Day

A day many of us get breakfast in bed and an excuse for gifts that let us know the stuff we do as a mother doesn't go unnoticed, even if it feels it does most of the time, or our kids tell us they hate us.
Mother's Day for me though brings mixed feelings and I'm pretty certain I'm not the only one. My mum is no longer here.

My mother died when my eldest was 3 months old. That was more than 10 years ago now and I still miss her terribly. Often it's not something that enters my head, it isn't a constant aching loss, but that makes it hurt no less. Days like today I am profoundly aware of just what she, I and my children have missed out on. They never knew her. I wish so much that that was different. She was such a wonderful mother to me. She was a quiet, peaceful and fun influence on my life.

We didn't have much but it didn't matter because we had her and she gave us everything she could; which included a solid work ethic, good grounding in life skills like cooking and using what you have to get by. She taught me to sew, encouraged me to be crafty and make things for others, and accepted what were probably very dodgy efforts on my behalf as valued gifts.

My mother also wasn't afraid to have fun and laugh at herself. She was the one who taught me the value of a good practical joke. There were stories of going to camps and hanging all the boys clothes down at a nearby bus shelter. Being fined at the start of the same camps simply because of who her sisters were and deciding if that was the way it was she may as well make the most of it.

There were cousins who made the mistake of trusting my mother and her sisters and their mother (Oma) with things like wedding luggage - oops, a mistake I knew not to repeat. I didn't pack a honeymoon bag, so my mother put rice through all my luggage. More fool her though she taught me well. When I dropped in to grab my stuff before the reception I emptied my whole bag in my parents bed, picked my clothes out and remade their bed. They were picking rice out of the carpets for months. She also taught me how to short sheet a bed.
She may not have understood the creative force that drives me but she supported it. She was the calm in our, at times, chaotic storm. She stood strong in the face of adversity, even the cancer that eventually took her life. She was warm and generous of spirit. The thought of disappointing her was a more powerful motivator than her anger.
Faith for her was rich, deep and real. She hurt at the end when well meaning people of faith insisted she wasn't getting healed because she must have had some unacknowledged sin in her life or some other crap. I was so angry with them. But she'd call me up when she was down and I knew it was my job to make her laugh. So we'd come up with silly things like hanging up a huge pink parachute from the roof at her wake and having white liquid spurt all over people like a boobie leaking milk.
I remember this one time at the airport when she'd just gotten her fake boobs (she never had reconstructive surgery these were just like prosthetic ones that filled out a bra for the times she wanted that). She took it out of its box and was passing it around so we could feel it. The poor guy sitting near us had no idea what to say or really where to look. Even when she was sick she kept her sense of humour.

There are times even now I wish I could just ring her up and ask her questions, or share things with her. I have no idea what she would think about what I do now, or how I am as a mother, I only hope I can be half as good at it as she was, if I can do that then maybe my girls will have a good grounding for their lives.

At The End Of My Rope

I am a mother and I love being a mother. I love my girls and I love my husband, but right now I am at the end of my limit. I feel so bad because I have a very strong feeling to lock myself in my office away from everyone for a day or two. Okay admittedly the length of time varies but I at the moment I just wish everyone and everything would forget I existed, just for a while.

As a mother how do I cope with this? And is the desire to lock myself away really a problem? To answer the last first, yes. I know it is because I find myself snapping at my family. It’s not that the girls are even doing anything wrong (okay the youngest has taken to beating up the eldest, but she’s two so that explains that). They just want some of my undivided attention and really I should be grateful for their love rather than grumpy.

So I apologise for snapping and go and make a steering wheel for my eldest’s box car and know that balloon tennis really is quite fun. Whilst in the back of my mind I contemplate the wisdom of locking my bedroom door just so I can use the ensuite toilet in peace.

Mother's Day

It was mother’s day yesterday and while this post would perhaps have been more appropriate posted then it’s getting done today. I’m a mother, I was having as much of a day off as possible.

My focus however isn’t so much on me.

I miss my mother, it’s been nearly six years since she died and there are days I really wish she was still here so I could share with her. You know just sit and have a coffee and talk, it doesn’t have to be about anything important. I miss the connection. I’m sad she never got to know my girls.

I have my two girls whom I love immensely and bring so much joy into my life. I love watching them grow. Each stage brings with it something else to enjoy, even when it can be frustrating. I hope and pray that I am up to the task of raising them to be the best ‘them’ they can be, and that my quirks don’t mess them up too badly.

Then I got to thinking about young women, the rise in crime  among females and the rise in single young mothers we are seeing. If you are a regular reader of my blog you may realise that these are things very close to my heart. It saddens me to see so many young women, girls really trying to grow up so fast and destroying their lives. There is so much of self and want and in some ways so very little of giving that I wonder what effect this is going to have on the woman of the future. I wonder what she will look like? In some ways the possibilities scare me. But I know there is always hope.

So to all you mothers out there, for all the good days and the tough ones I salute you, and pray for wisdom in raising your children.