On Mothering

If you have somehow dodged the unrelenting bombardment of reminders from radio ads, billboard specials, poorly iced cakes in grocery store bakeries, and adorably filial facebook profile picture changes, I should let you know that today is Mother's Day.

Right now, I'm sitting next to a stranger in the quiet car of a north-bound train, instead of celebrating in the very loud living room of Mimo's apartment with my sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, cousins, cousins-once-removed, *gasp* grandmother, and *gasp* my Mom (who arrived in DC unexpectedly after a 2-day cross country road trip with Zenith). While I would certainly prefer to be in the latter situation, the former has provided me with a bit of space to ponder the holiday that everyone else seems busy celebrating.

Momo with my oldest brother Tomicah, before the biblically proportioned baby deluge.

I was looking through some old family pictures scanned into my computer, when I had a mind-blowingly obvious realization -- mommies are people too. They have weird senses of humors, they can be self conscious, sometimes they like crass television shows. Some of them aren't great, and some of them are extraordinary; capable, intelligent, innovative, visionary -- all of the important words. They put most all of that incredible energy directly into making someone else better. They totally cut out the middle-man and take direct responsibility for the outcome of another person (or two, or three, or eleven) -- whether that be by staying with those kiddos every step of the way or by working to provide them with other opportunities. That's kind of huge deal to me.

I hope it goes without saying, but I love you mommy. Thank you.