To all you ladies who are teaching me how to be a mom, thank you. (Even those of you who are not mother’s yourself.)
And to those who think I know what I am doing and looking to me for advice/inspiration/serenity, I apologize. I’m clueless. I’m taking my cues from a 4-year-old and an 18-month-old, so I can’t be blamed for anything.
Nevertheless, thanks to you ladies who inspire me with your confidence, clear-mindedness, your cool under pressure, and even your exasperation. Especially your exasperation.
Thanks to you who enjoy my children as much as I do — who teach them and talk to them and give them smiles and kind words when they are . . . just being kids.
Thanks to you who have saved me from myself when my exhaustion and emotions were taking over and preventing me from making good choices. I hope I can to do the same for my kids.
Thanks to you talk with me about books and news and tv and movies (even though I’ve never seen any of them). About running and writing and cooking and baking and sewing. About ethics and integrity and faith and responsibility. About difficult relationships and impossible decisions and powerlessness and the unseen roads that lie ahead.
Thanks to you who are sharing this adventure with me, who are learning to raise kids and keep house and manage meals and resources and schedules. Thanks for helping me laugh at the misadventures, too. That’s twice as nice.
Thanks to you who support me and who let me support you, in whatever way I can — fragmented, distant, and meager as it may be.
Happy Mother’s Day. I hope your weekend is lovely: all chocolate and flowers and peace and rest.