I've spent six Mother's Days in my thirty years recieving slobbering kisses sticky with pancake syrup and handmade cards squished by the tiny hands thrusting them at me as I peek out from under the covers, milking the automatic turn to sleep in for as long as I possibly can. At some point a lovingly made cappacino is handed to me from the lovely father of the sweet little babes who've honored me with the title "Mom".
It's been six Mother's Days of pure heaven.
There's no book on Motherhood, although there are many who try to write the rules. We all end up doing what we should - going with our guts and with our hearts. I've spent six years watching my children grow from tiny seven pound kittens into walking, running, dancing beings who astound me more and more every day, as I watch them become exactly who they are supposed to be. They just know how to grow, how to learn, how to shape and master.
I've spent six years watching myself, in the mirror and in the world. There are parts of me that have changed, have aged, have fallen away, have left. I look different than I did when this all began. I feel different. I've grown. My children have taught me to walk away from what doesn't fit me anymore. They've inspired me to start new things, to take what I'm interested in and run with it, full tilt. The enthusiasm they have, I want to have too. My kids.... they are teaching me all the time.
As I'm sitting here on the eve of the Sunday I am crowned Queen Mommy for a day, I'm tired and sore and sun-kissed from a weekend of riding bikes, going on dates, hanging out with friends, and digging in the garden with my kids. It's been wonderful so far. This Mother's Day, under the covers, covered in sticky kisses, I am going to celebrate all the ways I have grown as a mother and as a person. And I'm going to thank my kids for that.
Happy Mother's Day to all the women who have held hands and wiped tears and kissed tiny cheeks and let their children show them exactly what love is.
