Mother’s Day #2
May 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
I was so excited to get a Kobo for Mother’s Day from my own family! William, our resident technological genius, chose it. With my recent overwhelm regarding my physical surroundings, something that reduces clutter is a great idea for me. I find it hard to justify spending money on books, unless I know for sure they will be repeatedly read, so this little gadget is a win!
But it was the handmade gifts that touched my heart. The thought of my nine year old Samuel, sitting at school diligently sewing all those little crosses, makes me melt inside. ‘To Mumzes’ – so unique, so Samuel.
Lily was so excited to present me with her handmade soaps and heart, and of course a gorgeous card that she drew. I keep all her drawing lately, with dreams of turning them into embroidered pictures.
Mother’s Day isn’t for me.
It is for the children.
For the older ones: teaching them to appreciating their mother, and women generally. It begins with this day; somehow I transform from just ‘Mum’ to a person whose turn it is to receive. And the younger ones love preparing gifts and cards to give. I love sharing in their excitement.
One of my motherhood goals this year is to really encourage independence. When I was growing up, we knew a family with six children. We spent many holidays with them, camping, bushwalking, canoeing… generally all the adventurous things that my single mother would/could not have attempted on her own. But as I grew up, what I admired most about this family was the kids: all self reliant, independent, motivated kids. They all had jobs as soon as they could, even unofficial ones before that. They pooled their money when some of them were still teenagers and bought a block of land. Now they are spread around the world, living their own lives.
And when I had my first baby, those parents became my role models, and still are (since the kids grew up, the parents have literally built their own house (in their 60’s), done all the huge weeks-long bushwalks in Australia, and travelled the world by container ship).
So when I see how my children don’t need me, in big ways as well as small, I feel I am doing a good job.
Boys on the bus to school? All ok.
Lily going to ballet with someone else, sleeping over at her Nana’s for a few days alone (at age 6)? Easy.
Kids all ok with the Grandma’s for a month while I live in hospital with Robin? Check.
William off to NZ for three weeks with his class at age 13? Yep.
It is hard sometimes to let them fly. But as I have always thought: motherhood, for me, is mostly an endless line of promptings to let go.