Why I love being a mother

I always took it for granted that one day I will be a mother. Of course I knew it might not happen, but still that wasn’t really an option. As a teenager, for some odd reason people had a habit of asking how many kids do you want when you grow up. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one asked about it. I always answered 16 – knowing it wouldn’t really even be possible. (I know, it is but you know, not really). That was even mentioned in the graduation yearbook.

I thought I’ll be a great mother. I’ll enjoy being a mother. I’ll love my kids to the bits. If nothing else, I’ll be a better mother than mine. 

I think I was pretty well equipped for mothering. I grew up my mother taking care of other people’s kids at our home, so I was watching, learning and doing a lot. I did plenty of babysitting. I got a master’s degree in educational science, where child development and development psychology are mandatory. I taught in school, younger kids and older kids. I was ready – I thought.

The truth is, you’re never ready to be a mother.  Ready means you really are equipped to handle every single thing that comes along. You know how to deal with everything, you have answers for everything, you understand yourself perfectly and you can master your emotions and actions.

Motherhood is not a condition that just happens to you when you give birth or adopt. It is not a task to perform. It is not  an achievement to brag about or to use as a weapon against others. Motherhood is an adventure that will never end. It is immersion in love and despair. Motherhood is closing some doors to be able to open others.  Motherhood is life at its best.

While I’ve been a mother I’ve realized I can be a great mother, but it doesn’t really matter. Mothering isn’t about me. What matters is that my children are great. They are awesome. And it’s not because of me but because of who they are when they are born.  At times I enjoy being a mother, at times I realize how much easier life would be if I weren’t.  I do love my children, but it’s not about the feeling, it’s about the actions. The greatest moments are when you dislike and love at the same time. During these 10 years I’ve  learned that I probably will never beat my mother in comparison. But I’ve also learned there’s no need to.

The reason why I love being a mother is my four children. They see me at my worst. Yet they trust me, love me and tell me “you are the best mommy in the world” every night. It’s hard to find a job where you’d hear that on a daily basis.

Happy mothers’ day, whenever you (have) celebrate(d) it.

Expecting the worse

Our son, almost 4, tumbles over a lot. It is due to his condition and doesn't differ depending on where he is. But on a playground or  any play area where he doesn't walk long distances, people don't often recognize anything weird about his walking or moving.

What often happens is that he falls next to another child. Sometimes it can look pretty bad, him landing on his face. The parent of the other child comes and asks or commmands their child to say sorry. Sometimes with an angry voice. Sometimes really reprimanding their child. And I feel so bad. Often the situation goes on so quickly or I'm too far away to explain that it really wasn't any fault of their child. The child probably didn't even touch mine or see him being near.

I'm all for teaching the child to say sorry when needed. But it seems that too often we focus on that instead of seeing what really happened or listening to the child who tries to explain he hasn't done anything to say sorry for. Why are we so quick to find fault in our children? Or are we just too worried about acting as a good parent that we don't care about the truth?