And that, of course, is true.
But, is loving your Mom so special, so different? I love my Mom and my Dad and my spouse and my kids and my kitties and my house and my Nintendo Switch and the beer I'm drinking now.
So, are Moms really different?
Yes.
Moms are different.
I'm sorry if you didn't have this experience. Moms, of course, can be awful and a pain in the ass and terrible and abusive and neglectful and all of those other things that people in positions of power can be.
However, at their best, they are the absolute centre of your universe.
Maybe, at their worst they are too.
There is a fiction that exists in our popular imagination that Motherhood is easy, or it is always rewarding. As someone who has watched a Mom raise three kids I assure you it is a fucking sleep-deprived, chaotic shit-show most of the time.
And, it was that way before you were even born.
Kids are a menace to the body and minds of their mothers. They are parasites, first biologically, and then emotionally and socially. They carve out space in someone's uterus and then detonate a space in their personal lives.
Kids are an absolute nightmare.
But, like most nightmares, kids are an extraordinary gift over time. They make you face your own reality and the person you wanted to be. Kids are a fuck you to dreams and you can only surface from the nightmare if you cling to the here and now.
Kids are a test of your presence.
If you are wrapped up in aspiration the realities of motherhood will swamp you. Most of us, and especially most Moms, are swimming too hard against the tide of aspiration without realizing we need to be floated by the vest of inspiration. Put simply: aspiration is what you want the world to be; inspiration happens when you take comfort from what the world actually is, and can be.
I don't know if that makes sense, but it's late and I'm tired and a little tipsy.
Like everything about Motherhood, this is a tricky lesson. It's tricky for Dad's too. But, our burdens tend to be different. We have society on our side and more tangible markers of success, whereas Moms get forgotten in the day to day grind of adulthood. This is true for even the most successful working Moms. Their successes aren't seen as a fulfillment of their life's goals and their true purpose. That is stupid and wrapped in Patriarchal fuckery and yet doesn't change how many Moms feel and how the world feels about them. It's totally unfair and there isn't consistent recognition of the sacrifice a Mom makes for her family. But there is a reason grown men call for their Mommy when they are scared.
Mom is always home. Dad and our siblings and our Grandparents can be part of home. But Mom is usually the centre of that symbolic place of comfort and love. This isn't more or less complicated than when they were the person who was always there. They picked you up and kissed your boo boo. They cuddled you to sleep when you had a bad dream. They fed you when you were hungriest and calmed you when you were angriest. They were always the one who was around - it isn't some kind of magic.
Except that it is. It is the mundane magic that we overlook for the world of hero's journeys and fairy tales and super heroes. Moms are real world magicians. They are like our Gandalf and we are their hobbits. We are in awe of them as much as they are in awe of us. But, they are ahead of us in the journey as well. And, that is a difficult lesson.
In some traditions, they would call you Sensei, or "One who has gone before".
But all of us, whether child or spouse, know you as Mama. And we are all, equally, in awe.
So, thank you love. Thank you Shawna, for being the Mom to our minions and living with the consequences of that bomb in your life. I know the shock was devastating and the shrapnel lingers and I'm torturing a dumb metaphor too much.
But, seriously, thank you for our family and opening the world to a love I didn't understand or imagine I could have or give or even deserve.
It doesn't, and shouldn't, define all that you are. But, as Hector likes to say; "You're a good Mom".
So, Happy Birthday Love. I hope this year is more gift than nightmare, more inspiration than aspiration and more fulfillment than sacrifice.
And, if that isn't happening you can rest assured Hector will simply say, "Try to be a better Mom, okay".
