It’s Mother’s Day. A bit windy and cool and you’re still asleep. You are the reason I celebrate today. As a kid I would read books and come across parts where they would talk about “motherly instincts.”
It sounded like a big thing to achieve and, being a kid still, I thought “What if I have no motherly instincts when my children are born, then what?” It really sounded like a tall order. It is, thank God. How else would we get better at it, because you see, being better at it only makes sense. Children deserve so much.
Like many fears we have along the way, my fear of not having motherly instincts when the time comes proved to be wrong and unfounded. Should I add unnecessary? It paints the complete image and it is a good word to learn to spell.
My motherly instincts kicked in the moment I knew you existed. They kept growing since. You both made it happen.
I kept journals for each of you, but mostly for the first few couple of years of your lives. The reason they stop rather abruptly is because you took off running and I ran with you. It was quite easy to write while carrying you in a sling, but it makes for more exciting stories once you happen upon them on your own two feet. Happy times. All of them, no exceptions.
You should know this about children. It may seem hard at times, being there for them and all. Yes, you were both a handful at times. But it is miraculous how all those parts fade away as you go (may I say by the end of the day) and all that’s left is joy. You’ll see.
I’ve learned a lot of things since you both came into my life.
I learned that everyone is different and has to be honoured for what they are. Children most of all, because you see, they are the beginning of people. It’s a big responsibility, teaching children to be proud of who they are and encourage them to be all they can be. You helped me see that.
I learned to seek the real in every day, in every action, in every person I meet. Most of all, you have taught me to be real. There was no other way, really, not if I wanted you to be the people you seem to become.
You taught me that happiness is a forest of wonders, where light and shade play intricate games and the mystery of it all keeps you going. You helped me realize that you can see deep in my soul and you’ll feed on both joy and sadness. You made me believe that living joyfully is worth it. Even when the path to it is a meandering one at times.
You made me learn patience. You made me a better person with saying “It’s OK, mom” after every time my words proved too harsh for you. You taught me forgiveness just in time, because now I can teach it back to you.
I learned to stand up for you, to protect you, and through that I learned to stand up for myself. You taught me that I am stronger than I ever thought possible. Your hugs are the very stepping stones that take me to where I want to go.
You gave meaning to my life. To how I live today, to how I think of tomorrow, and how I shape the world around me.
Today and every day, I wish to see you grow into kind men, strong and fair, I wish you’ll learn to love and be loved because a whole beautiful world opens up from there on (more on this later.) I wish for you to learn that never is a word that should be used sparingly and only in a positive context (for example, Tony’s forever question about a cure for me to never grow old and Sasha’s wrapping of arms around me saying “I’ll never let go,” that kind of stuff.)
Have a happy day my sons, and may that happen every day. It’s possible you know. With a wee bit of a catch: You have to make it happen. Yep, believe it or not, you have the power to make every day a happy one for yourselves and those around you. It’s all in you, I saw it. Like I’ve always told you, I can see inside your soul, just like you can see in mine. So there.
Share your thoughts?