For a third of my life now, I’ve been a mother.
I used to find Mother’s Day endlessly conflicting, especially as a new mother. Here was a day where I was supposed to celebrate being a mother, and there I was, working my ass off, trying to please the other mothers in my life; neither of whom particularly cared for me.
When I stopped trying to please them, I found that I was much happier.
I don’t feel conflicted anymore. Because while this is a holiday where I am supposed to be loved and cherished and honored by my children above all other mothers, I know that a shitty brunch of undercooked Eggs Benedict won’t ever say what your grimy outstretched arms do every day: you love me.
I know this.
So today is really about you, my children, the inexplicable three chunks of my heart forever walking around outside of my body. I’m not sure how they physically removed my heart and divided it up like that, but there you have it. In your veins, my blood flows; my heart pumps in your tiny, fragile chests.
I hope that you all grow to know how proud I am of you; how proud I am to know each of you. How I’ve marveled over each of your fingers and kissed them one by one while you slept on my chest as infants, and how my heart has swelled until I thought it would burst in my chest when you mastered something new.
How I’ve wept, wishing that I could save you the bumps and bruises that are coming down the road by taking them for you. How I want you to grow to be tall and proud, standing up for what you believe in and helping those who have no voice. How I want you to be sure that there is so, so much good in this crazy, mixed up world, and how I want you to add to this good by being who you are.
Because you are all such wonderful people.
I hope that you can forgive me for the mistakes I’ve made. I’m bound to fuck you up in all sorts of ways I can imagine and many that I can’t. I hope that you can forgive me for calling you crotch parasites (even though you all are) and teaching you to swear prolifically.
Preemptively, I’m sorry.
But there’s not a day that goes by that I’m not proud to call you all my children. So Happy Mother’s Day, my babies. Without you, I simply wouldn’t be me.
And a Happy Mother’s Day to you, my Pranksters. To all of you who have children to celebrate with here on Earth, to those of you who are struggling to be mothers, and to those of you whose treasures are in Heaven.
A Happy Mother’s Day to all of you.