You are all over. A silver link bracelet on the dresser. A heaping scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. A handwritten letter on lined white paper smelling of musk.
I love being a mom. That is not to say motherhood is all roses and candy, it is not, but I love it. I always thought I would have a gaggle of babies, imagined myself with double strollers, bouncy seats and baby babble swelling the rooms in my house. Picture one in a bassinet, one in a sling across my chest, and two toddling behind me and now you have a good snapshot of my motherhood fantasy at the age of 25.
However, life didn’t quite work out that way and now I cannot imagine the craziness of having more than one, though I am sure I would have lived up to the challenge and joys of the aforementioned gaggle.
My first Mother’s Day fell on the same weekend as my baby shower. I was 7 months pregnant, stuffing my face with all the fresh green chiles I could get my swollen fingers on, and wading through, rather buoyantly, my in-law’s pool in the desert sun. I was sublimely happy. I was given an emerald ring (my birthstone) as a mommy-to-be gift which I still wear today (it is the only ring I wear since removing my wedding ring 9 years ago).
My daughter loves that story, the story of her in my belly, the desert baby shower, and the ring. The ring will eventually become hers when she is older and I like to think someday she might have a little girl to whom she can pass it.
This Mother’s Day (#12) was as lovely as the first and all the ones in between. My daughter adores the holiday, begins preparing for it weeks in advance. This year she played a song for me, composed especially for the day, baked maple french toasts for breakfast, polished my fingernails a tart shade of red and took me for a nice walk in the park.
Every few hours, she’d stop to ask, “are you having a good day, mom?”
I am one of those women who enjoys the paper crafts, oddly shaped bowls, and all the I-love-Mom jewelry a child’s hand and heart can create.
Every year I write to her a letter on Mother’s Day and tuck into the lavender writing journal I found at a gift shop in Santa Fe, New Mexico the weekend of my baby shower. One day I will give her the journal book full up with letters on this woman’s work.
“To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.”
— Maya Angelou
“My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.”
— Mark Twain
“God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.”
— Jewish proverb
“The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness. “
— Honore’ de Balzac
“Mothers are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they are their own.”
“Of all the rights of women, the greatest is to be a mother.”
— Lin Yutang
“When I was a child, my mother said to me, ‘If you become a soldier, you’ll be a general. If you become a monk you’ll end up as the pope.’ Instead I became a painter and wound up as Picasso.”
— Pablo Picasso
“An ounce of mother is worth a ton of priest.”
— Spanish proverb
“The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.”
“Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown. In my heart it don’t mean a thing.”
— Toni Morrison
“The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.”
— William Ross Wallace
glowing above narrow path
call home the wandering moth.