Rearview Mirror of Motherhood

Hindsight, they say, is 20/20.


Yes, you can really only see clearly once everything is behind you and you’ve had time to reflect.

Only, I like a little realism with my reality if you know what I’m saying. As in, hindsight should be called plain old mean, inevitable, a big “I told you so,” or even a “nanny nanny boo boo” in this game called life. For me, hindsight is akin to age spots, frown lines, laugh lines and wild hairs. If you live long enough, they sprout out of nowhere and slap you in the face without even saying I’m sorry.


I was thinking about this the other morning after my kids stopped fighting over the phone charger long enough to notice that I did indeed exist. They do this from time to time like when they desperately need more milk for their cereal because they forget where the fridge is located or a towel because they don’t remember what a linen closet looks like.


“Hey, mom. What do want for Mother’s Day this year?” one of them asks while trying to untangle the cord from her sister’s neck. I pretend not to notice because let’s face it, I’m too tired and she’s still breathing.


“Peace of mind.” I say this firmly, on autopilot, without even thinking. But it stops me in my tracks.


My girls, however, roll their eyes, mouth something to each other in pig Latin and commence to wrestle.


See, growing up, every single time my mom was asked what she wanted she always said, and I mean every single time, those same three words: Peace of Mind.


And my brother and I would roll our eyes, snicker and continue to beat each other over the head with the Atari console because one of us was hogging Pac Man.


It seems these days, praying for peace of mind now that I have a few years under the belt as mom has become a daily occurrence: When I step over three soppy wet towels to find my fancy conditioner bottle empty and my missing flat iron flung on the back of the toilet seat next to my favorite layering sweater: Please, bring me Peace of Mind.


Having my moral compass questioned as someone who “always goes back on her word” in a busy
department store dressing room when, by promising to buy new bath suit, I did not mean a $178 Lilly Pulitzer one: Peace of Mind. (I’ll even take just five minutes worth.)


Listening to a barrage of “you never get me,” “why are you so mean,” and “how did I get so unlucky,” when I’m only trying to band-aid, clothe, feed, discipline and parent. Come on Peace of Mind. Where are you when I need you?


So, as I look at hindsight in my own mirror, I just want to take a little time and do something I should have done long ago. I’m sorry mom and I love you.


Mom, I am sorry I said you were the meanest mother ever and I hated you because my curfew was an hour earlier than my friends. I love you.


I feel awful for glaring daggers and huffing off when you made me do the dishes, feed/bath/walk the dog, clean my room, babysit to help pay for designer jeans, get a summer job because when I just wanted to hang out with my friends while all you were trying to do was teach me responsibility. I love you.


I’m sorry I yelled, talked back and slammed doors and told you “you don’t know anything” when all you were doing was trying to teach me right from wrong. I love you.


And I’m sorry for all the times I rolled my eyes, ignored you or took you for granted when you tried to help me parent my own children because I stubbornly and willfully disregarded the fact that you had been there, done that years before and were only trying to help me because you love me. I love you, too.


I think this Mother’s Day, as we look in the rearview mirror of our own motherhood, and yes, fatherhood, when we call, lunch, brunch or visit with our moms (those of us who are still so very lucky), we should remember how unbelievably hard all of this living life stuff truly is.


Mom, I appreciate you. I love you. Always have. Always will.


And for those of us, who are now living in the thick of it all, knee deep screaming and kicking our way through, let us remember some of the hardest parts will all be over, though sadly, soon enough.
And even then, Peace of Mind may not be so easily found because, as our own mother’s remind us, even when our children are grown and flown, we will still worry about them, cry when they cry, hurt when they hurt, want to fix everything even though we know we can’t.


So keep on keeping on by celebrating the big moments, find humor and grace in the little ones and lean on your mom when it’s tough. No one said it would be easy. No one told us it would be this hard, either. (Maybe they did, but we were too busy being right to listen.) But as our moms tell us over and over again, it’s definitely all worth it.


Happy Mother’s Day, y’all!