Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I Am.....Mother

My husband and I rarely agree on television shows, so we end up watching "our" shows in different rooms. We've tried finding some middle ground in terms of our tv viewing, but it's rare that one or the other isn't "slightly" put off having to watch "this stupid cop drama crap." (that would be me) It's nice to be able to sit down and spend an evening just hanging out together and unwinding, but it's not so pleasant when you'd rather stab needles into your eyes than watch one more second of Monday Night Football. I'm going to say here though, in black and white, that I'm loving "Glee." If I could get my husband to watch THAT with me, it would be pure bliss. He'd have to get past all "that singing" first.

So, we've taken to watching movies together when we can. Last night was "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." I'm not going to do a review of the movie (boring, slow) but instead just comment on the part that spurned some thoughts.

At the end of the movie, Benjamin is talking about "life" and how we all do different things and play different roles. He labelled them as "some quote Shakespeare," and "some swim" and "some dance." One that struck me was "and some are Mothers" with an image of his mother Queenie, arms spread out in an embrace.

I started thinking about MY "label" and the feelings, as it often happens, that despite being a good friend, loyal wife and committed Mother, it just never seems enough.

Of course I'd like to add "Critically Acclaimed Writer," or "Spokesperson For Children's Rights" or "Nobel Prize Winner" (a girls allowed to dream), but WHY isn't being a decent human being and a good Mother-enough? When did it become a dirty secret to admit that.....you know what.....I'm happiest being a Mom. That IS how I see myself. At the end of my life, if ALL that I mastered was being a fantastic Mother to two beautiful, strong, smart, confident women that adore and cherish me-it'll be enough. For me.

Yet, society doesn't seem to like that answer. As I stared into the mirror while brushing my teeth, I made all of the apologies that seem necessary-even to myself. You know the drill ladies. If I tell people, or myself, that I really AM content just being at home, raising my kids, and being the best mom I can be, it feels like I have no ambition or aspirations. I have to back it up with the other things I'd like to achieve.

I consider being a Mom my most challenging and important role. I take it uber-seriously. I spend each day making sure my children have balanced meals and clean clothes and rooms. We do homework together each night. We read stories and make believe. We go to lessons and on outings. It's a full time, time consuming, draining endeavour. By the same token, it's the most rewarding and fulfilling thing I've ever done.

So, why isn't it enough for anybody? Why do "I" feel like I need to add some "labels" to my epilogue. When did it become taboo to admit that you love being a Mother and that it's all you've ever wanted to do or be. Somewhere in the 1980's maybe?

At the end of my life, if people stand up at my funeral and the repeated labels are "great friend," "honest person," and "fantastic Mother," I won't be disappointed in the least. Add in a "lived by her own truths and stood by her ideals" and a "funny, smart, unique" and I'd make no apologies nor expect any pity.

I Am A Mother. I wouldn't have it any other way.

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