Mother's Day. Ugh. Like I've said before, my least favorite holiday. For me, Mother's Day has always been a fake holiday, an attempt to cover up the ugliness that was there the other 364 days of the year. Buying cards and gifts and flowers to celebrate my mom was hypocritical and unnatural and made no sense to me whatsoever. But my sisters and I, we played the game and shored up the facade of our seemingly happy, normal life, tiptoeing around the minefield day-to-day, and searching for the perfect card with the perfect verse that would defuse some of those mines, or at least buy us time off for good intentions. And yes, I know the saying is "time off for good behavior" but we knew we never behaved well enough for that to happen. So we just papered our relationship with our mom with lies from Hallmark and American Greetings and the FTD flower delivery guy. Not just on Mother's Day, mind you, but finding the right card on Mother's Day was always the hardest challenge--just the right amount of cuteness, stirred up with the perfect artwork, preferably with lots of purple (her favorite color), and topped with whatever amount of praise and compliments the giver could stomach. And not too early, and NEVER late. Oh, and NEVER make the mistake of sending the mother's day card intended for your stepmom, to your crazy real mom.
I carried that baggage into my adulthood and my own life as a mother, where I practically exuded insecurity over my value and worth as a mother, and later a grandmother. I have gotten better at accepting my life, especially the reality that my mother could not, or would not, love me, or perhaps love anyone else; but I still hate Mother's Day. Probably always will. Because it celebrates the idea of the perfect mother, who does not exist. We place moms and motherhood on this ridiculously insurmountable pedestal, as if all moms, just because they have a uterus are somehow magically endowed with all the skills and instincts and feelings needed to nurture and raise healthy, well-balanced, and grateful offspring. Even worse, we place this burden on the shoulders of girls and young women without providing any suitable preparation or instruction, except that handed down by, you guessed it, their mothers. Society expects, no demands, perfection from mothers, and if a mother does not fit the mold designed by society, oh well that mother is cast out, cast aside, locked up, and hated as "unnatural" and "cold." Hollywood, television, marketing and advertising campaigns, literature, music, art...all of it depicts motherhood as some sainted, heavenly assignation bestowed as soon as a woman is given a child to nurture. Maternal instinct, mothering, Mother Nature, Mother Teresa...all of these conjure visions of women who can soothe any ache, calm any anxiety or fear, kiss away any pain. Mothers are saints, mothers are holy, and mothers are off limits when it comes to the blame game. Sure, we kid around about it, make mother-in-law jokes, complain about our mom, but God help the child who tells anyone in his world that his mother was anything but "a good mom."
No one, especially a child, wants to believe a mother is capable of harming her offspring. No one, especially a child, has the ability to fathom the pain and angst this will wreak in the child's life. No one, especially the child, can grasp why he is not loved when his sibling is. No one, especially the child, can understand that the fault lies not in them, but in the mother and the expectations of society. So the child lives in a world of fear, of hate, of self-loathing, of guilt, of conflict avoidance, of seeking to please, and in an endless quest for someone to love her as she is. And if that child speaks up, cries out, that child is not believed. So the child continues to live in a world of lies, of paradoxes, of confusion and contradictions, wanting his mother to love him, because the world says that is what mothers do, all the while knowing that she does not. But he has no way to prove that, because the world, society, even those in the child's family, say this is not possible. And the child grows up believing she is at fault, she is damaged, she deserves the punishment and the hatred and only if she would try harder, be nicer, act nicer, be prettier, be a good girl, do the right things...only then would her mother love her.
I know...pretty dark stuff. Remember this on the next Mother's Day--that having a functioning uterus, or being given the responsibility of nurturing anything, especially a small human being, does not automatically qualify one to nurture. Bad mothering lies not just in the lap of the mothers--it belongs to all of us. Mothers do not have some supernatural power or instinct that is born into them, or implanted in them when they give birth. Mothers need guidance and love and understanding and more guidance and more love. Mothering is painful and difficult and joyful and excruciatingly sad and anxiety-filled and so many other things. It is learning by trial and error, by practice makes imperfect, by example, and it is not easy. It is wonderful, but it is definitely not easy. Motherhood is one role assigned to some women, not all, and, like any other role in life, God has given us instructions to follow to be the kind of mother He designed us to be.
I carried that baggage into my adulthood and my own life as a mother, where I practically exuded insecurity over my value and worth as a mother, and later a grandmother. I have gotten better at accepting my life, especially the reality that my mother could not, or would not, love me, or perhaps love anyone else; but I still hate Mother's Day. Probably always will. Because it celebrates the idea of the perfect mother, who does not exist. We place moms and motherhood on this ridiculously insurmountable pedestal, as if all moms, just because they have a uterus are somehow magically endowed with all the skills and instincts and feelings needed to nurture and raise healthy, well-balanced, and grateful offspring. Even worse, we place this burden on the shoulders of girls and young women without providing any suitable preparation or instruction, except that handed down by, you guessed it, their mothers. Society expects, no demands, perfection from mothers, and if a mother does not fit the mold designed by society, oh well that mother is cast out, cast aside, locked up, and hated as "unnatural" and "cold." Hollywood, television, marketing and advertising campaigns, literature, music, art...all of it depicts motherhood as some sainted, heavenly assignation bestowed as soon as a woman is given a child to nurture. Maternal instinct, mothering, Mother Nature, Mother Teresa...all of these conjure visions of women who can soothe any ache, calm any anxiety or fear, kiss away any pain. Mothers are saints, mothers are holy, and mothers are off limits when it comes to the blame game. Sure, we kid around about it, make mother-in-law jokes, complain about our mom, but God help the child who tells anyone in his world that his mother was anything but "a good mom."
No one, especially a child, wants to believe a mother is capable of harming her offspring. No one, especially a child, has the ability to fathom the pain and angst this will wreak in the child's life. No one, especially the child, can grasp why he is not loved when his sibling is. No one, especially the child, can understand that the fault lies not in them, but in the mother and the expectations of society. So the child lives in a world of fear, of hate, of self-loathing, of guilt, of conflict avoidance, of seeking to please, and in an endless quest for someone to love her as she is. And if that child speaks up, cries out, that child is not believed. So the child continues to live in a world of lies, of paradoxes, of confusion and contradictions, wanting his mother to love him, because the world says that is what mothers do, all the while knowing that she does not. But he has no way to prove that, because the world, society, even those in the child's family, say this is not possible. And the child grows up believing she is at fault, she is damaged, she deserves the punishment and the hatred and only if she would try harder, be nicer, act nicer, be prettier, be a good girl, do the right things...only then would her mother love her.
I know...pretty dark stuff. Remember this on the next Mother's Day--that having a functioning uterus, or being given the responsibility of nurturing anything, especially a small human being, does not automatically qualify one to nurture. Bad mothering lies not just in the lap of the mothers--it belongs to all of us. Mothers do not have some supernatural power or instinct that is born into them, or implanted in them when they give birth. Mothers need guidance and love and understanding and more guidance and more love. Mothering is painful and difficult and joyful and excruciatingly sad and anxiety-filled and so many other things. It is learning by trial and error, by practice makes imperfect, by example, and it is not easy. It is wonderful, but it is definitely not easy. Motherhood is one role assigned to some women, not all, and, like any other role in life, God has given us instructions to follow to be the kind of mother He designed us to be.
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