The Pear Tree

I used to think that Mother’s Day was about honouring our mothers. I used to think that devoting one day in the year to them, to pamper and treat and fete them, helped to make up for the emotional roller coaster ride we kids send them on the rest of the year. It was a day, I believed, to remind them that, even though our words and actions might hint otherwise 364 days of the year, we really do love and cherish them, deep, deep down, and owe them everything.

But now that I’m a mother myself, I feel differently. I’m not actually looking for affirmation on this day. I don’t particularly care to be celebrated. I just want to revel, for one entire day, in being a mother.

Can’t I do this every day? I probably should, but I admit that I get distracted by the temper tantrums, gimme gimme and mundane tasks associated with living.

But this Sunday, in addition to honouring my own mother, I will be remembering how incredibly blessed I am to have in my care two such beautiful, dynamic, curious and vivacious children, and how very honoured I am to be their mother. And I will be thinking about the myriad reasons I love being a “mum.” Here’s just a small sampling:

* Being able to have my own “would you believe…” birth story. Every mother’s story is miraculous and every mother wants to share it. I used to have to tell my sister’s story during those hen parties when I wanted to contribute something – now I have two awesome stories of my own.

* Butterfly kisses

* Snuggling up under a blanket together for a good read.

* An excuse to crack the spines on some of my favourite authors’ books again – including A.A. Milne, Beatrix Potter, Enid Blyton and Dr. Seuss.

* When my child is feeling tired or grumpy or shy and only wants one person to hold him or her – and it’s me.

* Sitting round the table when something really tasty is being eaten (fresh fruit salad with yogurt is up there), and each child retreats into his or her own flavourful world and all is silent save for the happy smacking of lips.

* Dance parties to music by Great Big Sea.

* My Lisa Leonard silver Dewdrops necklace, customized with my kids’ names on one side and my husband’s and mine on the other.

* Introducing my kids to something new that I just know they’re going to love – whether it’s a new food, a new place, a new game or a new video.

* Watching their reaction when I’m right (see above).

* Kissing owies “better.”

* Sharing stories about when I was a little girl.

* The reunion joy that’s exchanged after a morning or an afternoon apart.

* Watching my son take his little sister by the hand and lead her around through the park or the mall, acting the protective big brother. The bond that’s forming takes my breath away.

* Heartfelt bouquets made up of dandelions, roadside blooms and the occasional noxious weed.

* Brushing a tiny head of corn silk coloured hair that has the texture of dandelion fluff.

* Brushing said head of hair while she takes the comb after one of her baby dolls or stuffed toys.

* Seeing them achieve something that they couldn’t before – whether taking those first wobbly steps or tying their shoe for the first time (still waiting for that one). And sharing in the sense of achievement even though they did all the work.

* Watching them sleep. No matter how bad they were during the day, all the frustration melts away when I see those little heads nestled into their pillows and the angelic look on their faces.

I think I’ll keep this list; print it off and hang it on my fridge, so the rest of the year, when my joy is overshadowed by frustration, the rewards blurred by sleep deprivation, I can remember how amazing it really is. To be a mother.

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The Mother Load is a mommy column by Pear Tree editor Lori-Anne Poirier that runs weekly on thecalgarybeacon.com and in The Penticton Herald’s Southern Exposure.

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- Words by Lori-Anne Poirier

- Photo by Daniela Sitar

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