Maycember was quite a challenge this year, hence the late post. Love Y’all, M

Time for my yearly Mother’s Day post where I bask in the triumph of my boys turning into good humans. I thank the friends who help me along the way every day. I give a nod of gratitude to my mother-in-law. And I make allowances for my own mother. I’m certain that one day my sons will chagrin as they talk about my shortcomings and those crazytown moments of their youth with me.

I can think of no other choice in the world more frightening, dangerous, or world-changing than motherhood. Truly, no other change to one’s life and body is more significant. For those who cannot or choose not to become mothers, there is no other position in the world that can causes more personal strife than not being a mother. As women, sometimes it seems like we just can’t win. No situation, no place, and no person in the world receives more judgment, more opinions, more negativity, or more blame than a woman of childbearing age. It’s almost as if the whole unique proposition of motherhood is somehow taken out of our hands and given to other people who think they know better in all stages of our lives from 12 to 52. And I want to know why.

First of all, it’s nobody’s business. However, as humans we have somehow allowed it to become everybody’s business. When are you going to start a family (um, highly personal with a multitude of answers)? When are you going to have another one? OR, don’t they know how that happens (when there are say four or five children)?

Then there is the visible/invisible dichotomy. Women become visible when they are pregnant, or holding on to toddlers at Target, or cheering on their kids at a sporting event, graduation, weddings. Perhaps that’s why so many women start pushing for grandchildren. Their previous visibility has faded and they are ready to be back out there in the limelight.

Ah, but that limelight, however fleeting, is harsh, flourescent, and glaring. The imperfect moments of life provide a running commentary for others. Glad that’s not my kid running around like that. Did you see what her daughter was wearing (note: “her” daughter, not where’s the dad)? She’s really let herself go. What is she feeding those kids (again, “she” as if a dad can’t make a peanut butter sandie, or slip the kids some candy)? Then there is the ultimate stressor, the crying baby on an airplane is your baby. I could go on. The amount of judgment is limitless.

The comments we have allowed as a society to sink in and become part of our everyday psyche are truly terrifying. It takes years and years and years to root out those memories embedded deep in our amygdala. I am just as guilty as the next person when it comes to judging mothers. In fact, I’ve said everything I wrote here. Shame on me. For someone who feels the judgment as deeply as I do, how dare I even think it? Shame on me.

I am a mother of two sons. I am an aunt to five nieces. I have given hugs, fixed booboos, called out behavior, celebrated victories, counseled, questioned, and fed more children than I can count as an educator and volunteer. I run the spectrum of feelings about being a mother every single day of my life. There is nothing I will ever do as important and impactful, while at the same time invisible and undervalued as being a mother. Motherhood is the most complicated state of being that there is. The act of mothering is always in the present tense. Motherhood cannot be quantified because love is a living, breathing, ever-expanding state of being. “Love you to the moon and back” implies without limits, but I’m sure a child has calculated the distance as some point!

So, Happy Late Mother’s Day to all women in the world in the roles of mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, friends, church moms, teacher moms, volunteer moms, babysitters, and any other role that spreads the love.

Marla