You don’t see the magic as a kid, you only see the results. A bed is made, a dinner cooked, the clothes washed and neatly put away. You don’t see the work, the anxiety, and sometimes the tears at the end of a long day. As a kid we go through life with this blinded disregard to anything and everything that isn’t all about us. We see the finished product of a life given to us, but don’t know how the results came to be.
You wake up on Christmas morning to see all the joys and toys your little heart desired. We don’t see the time it takes to listen to the words of a small child describe the items they want Saint Nic to deliver to them in the middle of the night. We don’t see the time it takes to gather all the items, wrap them, present the presents under a tree that did not decorate itself. We don’t see the concern of a budget, because the real Santa Claus knows you can’t put a price tag on Christmas memories.
Children run to mom when there is a cut or a scrape or a problem. In the mind of a child, mom has a doctorate in medicine, psychology, and hugging. Kids run to mom because when you lose something, you are always told to go look at the last place you saw it, to return home to find peace, to go back to the womb of the woman that gave you life.
We forget that there was a time that mom wasn’t a mom, the time before she had kids, the time before she had worry. But you were always there, in her mind and in her heart. Like the idea for painting, or the drawing for a magnificent building waiting to happen, mom was always a mom, she was just waiting. All the places she went and all the experiences she had before you, were in preparation for you. You think moms learn how to dance at mom school, or how to talk to you about broken hearts by reading a book?
Kids don’t see the worry, at least all of it. They see the tears from time to time, and moms are the best at disguising anxiety for joy. “It’s okay honey” she will say, fighting back the tears, “I’m just so happy”. We don’t find out till years later about the sacrifices and the real reason for tears. We wish we knew then, but moms can be incredible actors.
We don’t see the preparation, the work, the effort. Moms live all the lives of all the children they have, and perhaps even a few others. And then she tries to squeeze in a few minutes for herself. It may be getting up an hour before the kids do just so she can exercise, or stay up late and just sit and stare at a wall. Moms don’t listen to the flight attendant when they say put on your mask first before you help someone else put on theirs, moms are too busy running up to the front and trying to land the whole damn plane.
We forget she had dreams. Perhaps we didn’t even know she did, but she did. But no matter what they were, her dreams for you are greater, and there is a loving sadness in that. We forget that moms sometimes didn’t choose to be moms, but they took up the task and did the best they could. Some moms find out they can never be a mom, but they still are one in the lives of those they help.
Being a mom is about being an example, and maybe that example is to leave a bad relationship, and show your kids that you have to take up for yourself. Sometimes she has to play the role of every part in a family play. Isn’t it funny how some boys learn to be men by watching a woman?
Moms don’t take the easy road, because there isn’t one.
Moms speak a language that can never be translated, because it is never spoken, just lived. The language of mothers has been passed for centuries. It’s inherent, instinctual, primitive at times and innovative at others. No matter where you go in the world, being a mom means the same thing, it’s almost magical how special that sight is. The hand of God on a human body, able to reach out and comfort the scared and heal the sick.
We don’t see all the work, but one day we do. One day when kids grow up and have kids of their own, the curtain is lifted and the reality of childhood revealed. We learn that there wasn’t magic, just mom. A tireless soul that juggled the moments of our lives, so gracefully at times we didn’t even realize that gravity was trying to kill us. One day we see how beautiful the face we never thought aged is, and how she was always our first love.
One day we will not have her, but we remember the lessons.
Mothers are special, but let us not forget that with all the super powers they possess and the invincibility we feel they have, they are still people. People who get tired, and sad, and lonely. Moms are mortal, although they have given us every reason to think otherwise. They hurt and they laugh. They want things for themselves, and they yearn for love like all of us do. Show her the love she showed you, and be grateful.