At my parents’ farm with my family.
Moms and dads guiding, leading, following, protecting little ones wherever exploration took them.
Sisters, uncles, grandma and grandpas filling in, lending a hand, an arm, a tickle, a cautionary “no” as needed.
It reminded me of why I like group playdates – kids running and laughing and playing and everyone’s a parent to everyone’s child, pushing toddlers in swings, tying shoe laces, dispensing snacks, shielding from harm whether it’s their kid, their friend’s kid or a stranger’s kid. The moms are just mom and the kids are just kids and it doesn’t matter who belong to who because we’re all just there, being and enjoying.
They say it takes a village and the village exists in so many expected and unexpected ways, from central figures in your life to periphery, never-shall-we-meet-again players. Like the cashier at Target, who sees you wrangling your kids into coats and carts and the sweat forming on your barely-holding-it-together face, and she smiles at you and says, “I had five like that. And so many days like that. You’re doing a great job.” And in those moments, when people reach out to you or your kids and connect for the good of your weary mother’s soul, those are the moments when it’s Mother’s Day. Not at the brunch buffet or inside the greeting card, but in the real life moments when someone, whether friend, family or stranger-turned-instant-sanity-saver, offers recognition, assistance, appreciation, comfort or solidarity, when I feel the village looking after me and my babies and wishing us well and safe passage as we stumble and soar.
Thank you to everyone who helps me be a mother. I am a better and happier
mom person because of you.
- I miss…
- Life jackets are the new black.