I’m surprised I like being a mom as much as I do.
This is a shocking thing to read, I’m sure, especially with the impending holiday, but there it is.
When I was young, I fantasized about having my own job and apartment like Mary Richards on The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Sure, I had played with baby dolls, but only briefly before I discovered that Barbie had career choices. I had the airplane and the grocery store. My doll needed a cool ride to work, so I got the Corvette, too.
I had never even thought about having children until I met my husband. Then my first son was born, and I fell in love utterly and completely. I finally understood. Then it happened again, when my youngest arrived, and I haven’t been the same since.
The joy of seeing him take his first steps, then walking across the stage to receive his diploma. Teaching him how to play ball, then watching as he scores the winning lacrosse goal. The pride of listening to them play the drums and electric guitar. And feeling your heart break right along with theirs as you attempt to hug the tears away.
Motherhood has given me two best friends, but really better than best friends because I have literally been there since their first moments of life. I cherish every moment I have with my sons.
There have been three phases of great love in my life. First, my parents, then my husband, and lastly, my boys. Each a different kind of love, each building on intensity. My sons have learned from me, sure, but I have learned far more from them.
My mother passed away when my oldest was almost three. There was so much I wish I could have shared with her throughout the years. But then again, I’m pretty sure she knew because she had felt it too when she held me in her arms all those years ago.
Those same feelings that all of you moms out there have felt.
They are the true gifts of Mother’s Day.