Posts Tagged With: #Mother’s Day

Not a Mom, but I do Mother

Today is Mother’s Day, my least favorite day of the year.

I often go out of my way to stay home on the second Sunday in May. The reason being I get asked the same two questions every year, not just by strangers but by friends who should already know the answers.

  • What did you do for your mom for Mother’s Day? Nothing, given she died 21 years ago this November. The most I can do is go put flowers on her niche. I will always miss my mom.

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  • What did your kids do for you this morning? Nothing, I have no children unless you count the ones with four legs and fur.
Furbabies

Argos and Rowdy Girl, my furbabies.

Cheryl Lacey Donovan wrote in her book The Ministry of Motherhood that “Mother is a verb. It’s something you do. Not just who you are.”

But the truth be told, as an educator (both public schools and Sunday School) and a Girl Scout leader, I have mothered a lot of children.

You don’t have to give birth to be a “Mom.” I have many friends who have fostered, adopted, or been step-mothers. This doesn’t make you any less of a mother. What makes you a mother is loving a child unconditionally through life’s bumps and turns.

If you’re lucky like me, you’ll have a few who will bestow upon you the title “Other Mother” or “Auntie.”

One young man, who still calls me Auntie, had the staff at the high school convinced I was his real aunt. This backfired on him, when he was in trouble instead of calling home they threatened him with calling me. I’d give him an earful, and when he got home, he’d get it a second time.

Another young man, broke my heart when he told me, “You’ve been a better mom, than my own mom.” It was a bittersweet moment, in that I was glad I was there for him, but I understood what he meant.

The students who belong to the writing club I sponsor at the high schools often look to me to be a mom/auntie. Sometimes I forget that then a mom tells me, “Thank you so much for being such an important mother figure in my girls’ life!” It makes the hassles of paperwork, scheduling, and fundraising worth it.

Then there are my “mini-me” girls, who are now taller than me.

I’ve known Erin since she was six and she was in my Sunday School class. Her mom and I came to be “sisters.” When I’ve taken her places, even with you mom with us, people thought she was my daughter as her coloring and build are more like mine than her tall, dark mother. Through the years I have been a teacher, Girl Scout leader, and friend. She’s in high school now and doesn’t need me that much anymore, but that’s okay, I can still make her roll her eyes at my dumb jokes.

My other mini-me, Jessica, is another that looks more like me than her own mother. We met in the beginning orchestra of the local community college when she was ten. We both were learning to play the cello. She was this cute little thing whose toes barely touched the floor when she sat to play. Now in high school, her playing makes me sound like I’m still very much a beginner.

Erin and Jessica are the same age. They attend the same high school. They are best friends, and it’s my fault.

What is funny is neither of them remembered when they first met. I introduced them one afternoon when I had a Christmas cooking baking party with them and Jessica’s siblings. I had four children – Erin (11), Jessica (11), Kaylee (10), and Derrick (10) – in my small kitchen baking cookies. The kitchen was a mess, the cookies were impressive works of art, and they were happy, giggly kids.

 

minimes

Jessica, Me, and Erin

I love “my kids” and don’t you mess with them. I can be a fierce mama bear and will defend my cubs as quickly as their real mothers would.

The world is full of both wonderful women and men, who care for children, guiding and mentoring them. Just because they didn’t give birth to these children does mean they care any less than their parents do.

Let me wish you, the mothering non-moms out there, a “Happy Mother’s Day.” You too make a difference in the lives of the children. And though you may never be told “Thank You,” it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Until next time . . .

The door is always open, and the kettle is always on.

 

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