The title of this post made me gag a little as I typed it. But here I am, writing on – owning that gross title. Because Mother’s Day 2023 could really only have been improved in a few, small ways.
But….
If I had celebrated the day 15 pounds thinner, would I have allowed myself to enjoy the afternoon Oreo milkshake?
If I had the physical ability to go for a marathon training long run, would I have still enjoyed my coffee and egg and bacon on a bagel sandwich in bed while watching episode 6 of “Daisy Jones and the Six” on Amazon Prime?
If my mind wasn’t occasionally clouded with self-doubt, wondering if I was doing enough as a wife and mother, I wouldn’t be a wife and mother. And they are my favorite life roles.
My Mother’s Day was spent at a weight I didn’t see until the third trimester of my first pregnancy. I struggle to keep my occasional three-mile runs under a ten-minute pace, and I only get out for those a couple of times a week at best. I spent numerous stretches of the day questioning my worth – my value – my place on this earth.
All of those things would have made my 30-year-old self shudder. But my 42-year-old self is starting, slowly but surely, to recognize that all of what I view as my shortcomings are the consequences of an incredibly fortunate life.
I love being a mom, and I get to do it every single day. In the last nine and a half years, I’ve made a lot of conscious choices. Skip the long run and enjoy pancakes and cartoons with my boys instead. Eat the ice cream cone with my beautiful family. Forego the race registration to not have to miss a soccer game. Lie awake at night fretting, worrying, replaying, stewing, hoping that I am enough.
Mother’s Day 2023 was spent at the BMX track, watching my boys participate in a sport that they love. Watching them make new friends and catch up with old ones, cheering for them, encouraging them, loving them. I got to be a mom on Mother’s Day. It was perfect.
