Mothers day has always been an odd day to me. As a mother, I don’t want to feel appreciated and loved on one specific day out of the year, I want to feel it year round. I don’t want my husband or children to feel forced to do something special for me because of what the calendar says. It just feels a little fake.
I find mothers day in July, in February, in October and in all the months of the year. I find mothers day when my husband takes the children and I have a few hours to myself. I find mothers day when the afternoon and evening escapes me and before I know it, it’s 7pm and there’s nothing for dinner, yet David doesn’t care and just picks something up. I find mothers day when David sneaks up behind me while I’m washing dishes, he startles me as he wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. I find mothers day when Emma pretends she’s a momma and cares for her baby doll. I find mothers day when Eli yells “momma,” and runs up to me at school pickup.
That is mothers day to me and I don’t need the calendar to say so.
I found myself sitting on the couch reading the June issue of Real Simple magazine. I reached page 6 and found a quote geared towards Fathers day, but if I switch a few of the words around, and insert my own, it’s exactly how I would want my children to describe me years from now…
“He was generous with his affection, given to great, awkward, engulfing hugs, and I can remember so clearly the smell of his hugs, all starched shirt, tobacco, Old Spice and Cutty Sark. Sometimes I think I’ve never been properly hugged since.” ~Linda Ellerbee, Move On