Mother's Day is a complicated day for many. There are the women who've lost their moms, or who are estranged from their own moms (or children). There are women who have lost children, or yearn to have them. There are women who, in many places in the U.S., will now be forced to become mothers against their will without adequate support.
In the spirit of authenticity (I've been listening and reading a lot of
Brené Brown lately), there are also mothers who constantly feel and fear that we're not doing a great job of mothering. It's certainly the hardest job there ever was, not one you can quit, and sometimes you wonder if what you do/say/model matters at all. I recently read a heartbreaking book called the
School for Good Mothers, in which a single mother (after her husband leaves her for a younger woman in the postpartum period) has a lapse in judgment and leaves her toddler home alone for a few hours; what follows is forced enrollment in a reform school for "bad mothers" where she is constantly evaluated for her fitness as a parent. Haven't we all questioned how well we're doing as parents or whether we're really cut out for this job?
I intentionally didn't visit FB much today, as the gleefulness of so many mothers and families, without showing some of the hardest parts of parenting, gets to be a bit much for me (even though I don't doubt some of these mothers’ joy and that they were really enjoying their days). We struggle constantly in our house with managing extreme explosiveness and defiance and holding boundaries while maintaining empathy, when the latter has been pretty depleted. This year's Mother's Day weekend (one of the most rainy ones I remember in years) was not an occasion free from angry outbursts and screaming, power struggles, wrestling that got too physical, or tears (not all of which were the kids’).
However, during some seasons of storms, you still celebrate the sun.
On Saturday afternoon when the rain broke, we had an outdoor dinner. Iver set the tables and put out a "Happy Mother's Day" placemat. I donned my fleece robe for the occasion :)
We went to a kids' production of the 101 Dalmations featuring our friends' daughter, Clara (as "Patch").
On Mother's Day morning, I woke up to several hand-made gifts-- cards, a paper bouquet and a chicken (?!) from Iver, and a paperweight from Niall.
Iver "got up early" (well, just as early as he always rises) with Kelvin (while I slept in until 6:40) to thoughtfully prepare me "something mama would like"- some hard-boiled eggs and a salad (even though I'm not sure I've ever consumed salad for breakfast)!
He modeled this certificate after one he got from his school (the "Building V. House" part was modeled after the "Building Character" text which was printed on his).
I attended virtual church while hanging out with Niall when Iver and K went to Sunday school and shopping. We tried to go on a neighborhood walk (but got rained on), FaceTimed with our moms (Happy Mother's Day, even though apparently our cards never made it to you!!), read a lot of library books, and watched a few episodes of the Netflix Show "Old Enough," which features young Japanese children being sent on questionably age-appropriate errands (our kids think it's hilarious. And maybe they feel empowered to independently go grocery shopping now). I cooked my banh mi bowl dinner, which may be the only home-cooked meal not involving sausage or cheese that is eaten by my kids without complaint (whining about food is one thing I knew could not handle on this Mother's Day).
In twenty years, will my kids be kind, well-adjusted people who contribute meaningfully to the world? I can only hope (and continue to worry daily that I don't screw up mothering too much; I'm really just aspiring to be "good enough"). We will see. At least they'll probably remember that I made them eat their vegetables.
