Being a Mother

Dear David Scott,

Thank you for a wonderful first Mother's Day.   When I picked you up from daycare on Friday, imagine my surprise at finding a gift from you.  With very little assistance from your "teachers," you gave me a handmade card which you'd scribbled on -- I'm sure you meaned for it to say, "Mama, you're the greatest and I love you!" (with perfect grammar and punctuation) -- and a framed poem with your painted handprints on it.  I shed a few tears reading the sweet poem that I'm sure you came up with and typed all on your own -- who knew you could type?!?  I told Daddy that you'd raised the bar so high on Friday that I hoped he'd prepared sufficiently for Sunday.  He sheepishly admitted on Saturday that he had not prepared and that I wasn't even getting a card due to his lack of planning.  I knew that he was joking (or at least that he better be joking!), and he was.  I got the sweetest card which I'm sure you helped pick out along with a gift card (love those) so I can go pick out something I want.  I'll probably use it to buy you more clothes, even though I desparately need work shirts and a few other things.  For the most part, I haven't bought myself too much over the past year b/c I knew I was having you and didn't want to buy anything that I wouldn't be able to wear for a while.  But nowadays, all of my extra spending money goes towards stuff for you.  But that's what moms do.  They make sacrifices.  And most of the time they don't think twice about it. 

When we were growing up, I know your Gran wore the same pair of tennis shoes for about a decade.  The same could be said for a pair of her blue jeans and a couple of work outfits.  We always thought she just wasn't stylish.  Little did we know that she was spending all of her money on us so that we could have new tennis shoes each year, or cool trapper keepers, or funky-colored windbreakers, or braces...twice...for all three of us.  We didn't realize these sacrifices until we got older.  I don't think she would've wanted it any other way.  Just like I don't want you to be aware of all of the sacrifices that are made on your behalf until you have to make those same sacrifices for your own children. 

This fashionable frock was worn by my mother when I was just a babe.  She gave it to me at my baby shower and now I wear it when feeding DS his baby food since he's so messy.

For me, being a mother isn't just about the sacrifices you make with your body, time, or money, although there are BIG sacrifices to be made on all three of those fronts.  Being a mother is selflessly giving everything you have all of the time, and even when you're completely exhausted, giving a little bit more so that your child remains happy, healthy, and thriving.  Being a mother is giving up a meal because your child wants to play or needs to be held or you just run out of time b/c there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done.  Being a mother is making sure you get the proper amounts of nutrients to ensure proper growth, and freaking out b/c you don't know which brand or what kind of baby food to get -- organic or regular?  Jar or homemade?  For the record, it's Earth's Best organic in a jar.  Being a mother is staying at work even though you are miserable with an allergy attack and can't see through your watery eyes and don't want to take more cold medicine than you have to b/c it will dry up your milk supply (even though we're in the process of weaning you right now), just in case I need that sick day down the line to use for you.  Being a mother is everything.  It is omnicient -- all knowing.  It is omnipresent -- everywhere.  Being a mother is a paradigm of opposites:  rewarding, hard, fun, exhausting, but overall, it's the best thing that's ever happened in my life. 

You, David Scott, make it so easy being your mother.  One of the many highlights of my day is picking you up at daycare and seeing your smile when you realize I'm there.  I also love seeing your sleepy face first thing in the morning.  I love that you follow me with your eyes and even crane your neck to see me sometimes.  I love watching you learn new things.  I love how you reach for the spoon when we're trying to feed you your baby food.  I love your laugh.  I love your recently-discovered shrill squeal.  I love your belly.  I love your eczema.  Well, not really, but you get the point -- there is nothing about you that I don't love.  Not even your stinky Anders feet.  (In your defense, I think that smell comes from the sandals I make you wear all the time; but there IS a heredity-thing with stinky feet on your Bud-Bud's side of the family, so I'm not fully blaming the sandals just yet.)  I hope that being your mother is always going to be this easy, but I know that there will be times when you try my patience, lose my trust, and go against my wishes.  I can only hope that those times are few and far between and trust that the good will greatly outweigh the challenging times, and I know they will...because I'm your mom.  And I say so.

Love,
Mama

P.S.  You are such a dream child and I look forward to many future Mother's Days with you.