Here's to Mothers

Today has been such a wonderful day. I woke up to pancakes, a daughter that was all smiles and non-stop talking, I received two wonderful gifts from my husband (a gift certificate for a massage and another for a cut, highlight, deep-condition, & style, mani-pedi, and lip and brow wax), I was granted a wonderful, peaceful, uninterrupted shower, and got to enjoy sacrament meeting at church. After coming home less than an hour ago with a baby who passed out only a few minutes after I loaded her into the car, I enjoyed a quite lunch reflecting on mothers. Being a mother myself to a beautiful, very energetic, VERY ADD little girl, I understand what all those poems, all those stories, all those anecdotes are all about. The ones about a mother sacrificing their sleep to comfort a child who woke up from a nightmare The ones about a mother eating last, after her food is cold or her cereal is soggy, just so she can make sure her child or children are fed and have what they need. The one about the mother, who when it comes time to serve a pie with 6 slices to her family of 7 declares that she never really cared for pie. As any mother can tell you, and as I fully know now, those stories are all too true.

As anyone who knows me can tell you, I'm an awfully selfish and attention-grubbing person. And, as they can tell you again, this time with astonishment, I'm also married to the most loving, attentive, unselfish man I have ever met or even heard of. My husband is one of those men you hear about in women's fantasies...the man who helps around the house, who plays with the kids to give mommy a break, who gives his wife a nice, relaxing massage without even making it known that he had the most horrible, stressful day at work, the man who will walk through the door after a long day and see his wife in sloppy clothes, her hair undone with no makeup on, and he'll promptly walk up to her, kiss her and declare how beautiful she looks today....the kind of man who never fails to tell me what a wonderful mother he thinks I am, even when I know I'm not. With a husband like this, everyday is like a "Mother's Day" to me. But at this time, my mind is drawn to those close to me (and even those whom I've never met) who aren't as blessed as I am. Those single mothers of young children who don't have anyone to shower them with thanks, knowing the significance of the day, those mothers married to men who proclaim that they aren't doing anything for their wife on Mother's Day because she isn't their mother, and those mothers who have thankless children who use and mock, and even neglect her on her special day, rather than thanking her for the countless years she loved and cared for them. These are the mothers that I can't help but think of, with much sadness, but even more gratitude for their silent determination to continue to push forward as a mother, never complaining, never slacking. Being a mother can be a very thankless job. I've known of husbands who scold their wives when they come home to a less-than-perfect home, saying that being a mother isn't THAT hard and they should always have everything in order. I'm here to say being a mother is the most difficult, taxing, never-ending job ever to be placed upon mankind....but I also want to say that it is the most fulfilling, gratifying, glorious job a woman could be blessed with.

Though a mother is not paid in cash, she's paid in things far better; hugs, kisses, "I love you"'s, and so much more. A mother gets her payment every time her child obeys, every time her child excels at something, every time her child wants her for comfort above everyone else, every time her child randomly shows affection or declares, "Mommy, I love you." No other payment could be as satisfying, more as worth it, as those.

I would like to close with a tribute to my mother, who spent 40 years of her life raising her own 11 children. My mother was, and still is, an extraordinary mother. Though she had so many children to care for, my mother always made sure that she was involved. She was the Class Parent for all of us kids almost every year. She was involved in the PTA at all of our schools. She ran our Elementary School carnival every year. She was involved in our athletic pursuits. She was involved in selling school shirts and providing equipment at my older brother's high school football games. She would come to every single one of our games. Whether it be baseball, softball, track & field, or football, she never missed a game. She never failed to cheer us on at the top of her lungs, obviously proud to be our mother. She would sacrifice many hours of precious sleep, staying up late until midnight to help us with projects, and then waking up at 4 am to make us breakfast and lunches before we headed off to school. She'd make sure to have fresh-baked cookies waiting for us when we came home from school, every single day. She would cook a large, healthy dinner for all of us every single afternoon. Being a mother of just one myself, I understand now what a tremendous, loving sacrifice she made for all those years. My mother gave up a lot to make sure we were well taken care of. But my mother's attitude about it all reflected that of Sister Marjorie Hinckley's when she said,
"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.
I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.
I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.
I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

...And that's also the way I want to be.