Mothering.

Mother’s Day – the annual celebration of the mother.

Traditionally marked with flowers, cards, brunches and pictures.

In our family, usually the official start of the Poppa/Gma Swim Season Sunday BarBQues.

Always lots of hugs.

Always lots of laughs.

Always lots of guac dip and cookie cake.

Always lots of chaos- the good kind.

And always the mothers trying to relax while the fathers and the kids try to help out but rarely does it present as a true “relaxation day”.

And that in itself defines the state of mothering.

Mothers don’t really “relax”.

Because mothering requires there always be a set aside of helping, advising, providing, guiding, lifting, nurturing, aiding, triaging, coaching, refereeing and so on and such.

Even at a Sunday pool day.

The state of being a mother is ever present.

Even when one escapes for an adult vacation or childless night or weekend, there is still, in the far left corner of the brain the part that is still mothering.

Checking the texts.

Worried about their schedule.

Revisiting what they have to wear, eat, homework that needs to be done or forms yet to be filled out.

The act of mothering is a 360 degree 24/7 lifetime commitment.

And it’s lovely and wonderful and what we signed up for and all that bullshit.

But it also is energy.

Raw, unending energy expenditure.

And it changes over time.

Ebbs and flows from constant care of an infant to painful letting go of elementary school years to the tightrope of teenagers to.. well.. I’m not sure because I’m not there yet, but I know it doesn’t get any easier and it doesn’t end, it just changes form.

And to ask for a break from all this is, well, futile.

And to ask for assistance in this mental load is, well, natural.

And to ask for acknowledgment for this is, well, what the day is about.

Acknowledging the art of mothering.

So, in that vein, I acknowledge all the energy spent AND received as a mother and one who has a mother —- and I am grateful!