Mom.

I am blessed to have such strength, poise, confidence and gumption to learn from in my Mother. My children are equally as lucky to have such wisdom, tenacity and love to enjoy from their Oma.

This evening I stood in my kitchen completely exhausted from a full day of renovation work at an investment property, having just put three kids to bed and staring at the dirty dishes in my sink when she text me. “Regarding dinner tomorrow…”, she said, and proceeded to give me the run down of a proposed dinner that could be served warm or cold to those of us working on that investment property tomorrow. When I text back that I can barely get through today, while she’s already onto tomorrow she simply replied, “Vodka”. My Mother knows me well.

She not only brought dinner the following evening, she also spent a full 8-hour day painting while I was at work. I’m pretty sure she simultaneously watched my kids while she painted? I’m not completely sure because all the days are currently blurring together. My Mother works harder, and loves harder than anyone I know. She is positive, and steadfast. Strong and kind.

I wasn’t always close with my Mother. No rocky past, or dramatic story to indulge in here but I up and left my home state to move to FL and told my parents over a casual lunch about five or six days before I packed a U-haul and left. When I lived in Florida she used to call and I’d pick up sometimes. She’d text and I’d occasionally answer. She’d send mail, even a Groupon or a postcard trying to stay in touch. I wasn’t ignoring her, or feeing ill toward her. I was just in my 20’s and living my life, and she was my Mom. Always there. Always calling. Always asking why I hadn’t picked up or called back.

And then one day, on the 25th of September in 2013, around 11pm, I became a Mother. And I capitalize that word on purpose because Mother should be capitalized in the way that one capitalizes the word God. I became a Mother and as all Mothers know, several things changed that day. First and foremost, I gained wisdom. Instant wisdom is instilled in all women who become Mothers and it appears in those moments when you look at your child and just know that something is wrong, and also in those moments when you look at your child and just know that you need to let them go. It’s the “just knowing” part of motherhood. I also gained what I like to call, “super powers”. Those all nighters when you’ve gotta get up the next morning to parent other kids, or get to work or simply keep the baby alive for another day. Those days where the puke or blood or poop or broken bones would have once made you run, but now cause you to spring into action. The pain of bringing a child into this world followed by the postpartum bullshit that society thinks we ought to pretend doesn’t exist. Super powers. Mothers have super powers.

Several things changed that day, but arguably the most influential of those was my relationship with my own Mom. I’ll admit that I was not thinking about this at the time, but over the years, and most definitely tracing itself back to that day, our relationship began to develop. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how this development could be summarized. It is the classic, “girl-has-first-baby-and-suddenly-needs-her-own-mom-and-understands-what-her-own-mom-went-through-with-her” situation for sure. However, I actually think what I’ve learned is much simpler than that.

I learned that my Mom is human.

Tears as I type this and pray that my seven word sentence above is not misinterpreted by anyone who reads it. Because to be human is the most beautiful thing. It means that my Mother has made mistakes, in the same way that I make mistakes as a Mom. It means that my Mother has felt guilt in the same way that I do as a Mom. It means that my Mother has cried, and yelled, and hugged, and apologized, and forgiven in the same way that I do as a Mom. It means that although I firmly believe that all good Mothers deserve to be treated as though they were a God, they also ought to be given grace as though they were imperfectly human. Because we are. We’re human, and we’re exhausted and we’re all just learning as we go. Learning that my Mother is human just like me makes her feel more real, more vulnerable, and more honest. What began to develop the day I gave birth to my first born is a relationship with my own Mom that looks a lot like a friendship but is anchored by love and wisdom, history and understanding.

My Mother is a force. She bends over backward on a regular basis to help out. She loves my kids damn near close to as much as I love them (sorry, I can’t give you that one). She holds our family together and she is always, always there when I need her.

We are all lucky to have you, to know you, to love you and to be loved by you. I am so proud each and every time that my words or actions cause someone else to utter the words, “you are your Mother’s daughter”.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom.