Celebrating YOUR Mom on Mother’s Day… and Every Day

When my first Mother’s Day as a mom rolled around, I did a little happy dance. I was fresh out the gates with a two-month-old little girl and thrilled to finally hold the coveted title of “Mom.”

I began picturing what this newly meaningful holiday would look like each year. I imagined being showered with hand-made cards and gifts still sticky with glue and glitter, breakfast in bed with a vase full of flowers picked from the backyard, and a thoughtful gift or card from my husband declaring me the “World’s Best Mom.”

When the day finally came, Rob made sure that my first Mother’s Day was one for the books: it was perfect from start to finish.

Somewhere between gift-opening and brunch, I began wondering what my own mom’s Mother’s Day was looking like. It occurred to me: she wasn’t being spoiled or pampered or hugged over and over again like I was. Of course there was a phone call and a card in the mail, but nobody was really making a big fuss over her like they were me.

I know it seems a little premature, but I came to the sad realization that some day, years from now, Mother’s Day was going to look very different.

As I looked at Lawton, I saw myself. I used to be that little girl who shakily carried a tray of scrambled eggs at room temperature to my mom’s bedside table. I was the little girl bursting at the seams when my mom unwrapped the dandelion bracelet I had made for her (and fully expected her to wear every day). I was the one who wrote a heartfelt letter on construction paper, listing out all the reasons I loved her.

Then one year, without any warning, all of that sweetness stopped. Her breakfast in bed became an evening phone call from my college dorm room. The hand painted mug with hearts on it turned into a Hallmark card stuck in the mail on the way to class. We told her we loved her, but not in the cute, meaningful ways that we used to.

I realize things change, but this seems unfair; Mother’s Day shouldn’t change. Our moms are the ones who sang us lullabies and rocked us to sleep. They’re the ones who brushed back the hair from our feverish heads and wiped away the tears.

Our moms were the ones who chased down the ice cream truck, made sure we always had sunscreen on, and dug pennies out of the bottom of their purse so we could throw it into a fountain and make a wish. They’re the ones who made us smile again after somebody hurt our feelings, held our hands as we cried about boys and broken hearts, and helped us with homework and proofread our papers.

They shuttled us around to countless practices and rehearsals, video taped each performance, cheered at every game, all because they wanted us to feel good about ourselves; they wanted us to be happy.

My mom may not pack my lunches anymore, but she’s still the first person I call when something good or bad happens. She’s the one I turn to when I need advice or help. If I have good news to share, I know that she’ll be the most excited.

Now more than ever, I want my mom to know how much I love and appreciate her. She shaped me into the person I am, and she deserves to be thanked for that every single day.

This Sunday, take time to say the things you haven’t said in a while, even if you think it goes without saying. Make a list of the things you love about them, just like you did when you were six years old.

Thank them for showing you how to love. Thank them for showing you how to be a mom. I want my mom to know that I’m the mom I am to her granddaughter, all because of the mom that she was to me.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of our moms out there. Here’s hoping we do half as good of a job as you did.