When is motherhood not riddled with self-doubt? Mother’s Day, with all of its precious gifts, crafts, cards and “coupons” for completing household chores is a hyper focused day when our little monsters dust off their halos and become the angels that we know are hidden beneath anything from tantrums to the closed off teen years of self-discovery. We look at these precious children and wonder “Am I doing this right?” It all goes so fast, until one day, we are sitting in a kitchen of many pots and plates with no one to cook for. How many times do I ask – “How badly did I do?”
And then the last fledgling gives me the most amazing gift….
Taking the soon-to-go-to-University (and last of the flock) daughter to work at 5:45 brings a bit of mystery and surprise to the morning. As she exits the car, there is a little note taped to the inside passenger door. I point and ask what it is, but she heads off wearing a devious little smile.
The note is celebrating a little mother-daughter moment that we share. When I come home, I discover that these notes are taped around the house – on my alarm clock, mirror, stove… I am the child now, filled with the excitement of hunting for these sweet little gifts – not the least of which is the actual igniting of excitement. I am happily seeking and discovering these little bits that honor our relationship in ways that get lost in the everydayness.
She checks in with me on her break to see if I have found all of my little paper presents. Her clues lead me to what she had hoped would be the final discovery (and it is) – the most wonderful of gifts. She, of few words and untold wisdom, lets me know that I have done okay. On this day that can often leave me asking “how much have I messed up these perfect little beings?”- my child lifts my fears and lets me fly.
I can’t stop crying.