Thanking moms for keeping us alive
As children, we tend to do reckless, and sometimes, downright stupid things. Climbing trees with not-so-sturdy branches, petting animals that may not want to be petted and eating and drinking things that could make us sick, or even worse, kill us.
Who was there to tell us “Don’t climb on that,” “Don’t pet that dog,” and my personal favorite, “That’s not food!”? Our mothers. From the time we are born into this cold and dangerous world, our mothers have an instinct to keep us alive, and thank God for that!
I played on that instinct once as a child, and to this day I still feel bad for it. In a class in elementary school, we were learning how different things we drink affects our bones. We used chicken bones soaked in various liquids such as milk, soda pop and fruit punch, to see what it would do. After the experiment was over, I noticed that the bone in the fruit punch looked bloody. So I devised a plan. I did the experiment at home and placed the fruit punch-soaked chicken bone in between my sock and my ankle and limped out into the living room where my mom was talking to some company.
This bone must have looked pretty real sticking out of my sock.
My mother immediately noticed my limp and looked down at my leg. She saw the “bloody” chicken bone and shear panic invaded her face, her mouth gaped open in fear as she started to run toward me.
Only when I saw the heartbreak and terror on her face did I realize two things: I was an awful child who’s prank was not funny and my mother could truly feel my pain, even when it wasn’t real.
I immediately stopped my evil prank and told her what I did, eventually, we were able to laugh about it.
Since then, she has been with me through a lot of real pain. She has been there to hold my hand during the scariest parts of my childhood and well into my adult years.
I wasn’t a complete terror all the time. Some of my favorite memories from my childhood are the ones where I was simply sitting on the couch watching T.V., eating cheese sticks and drinking Ale-8 with my mom. Even in adulthood, that is something I still greatly enjoy doing. Granted, the shows may change, but that feeling of coziness from being in my mother’s presence is something I cherish.
When I was a child, due to lack of funding for presents, I would write my mom poetry and make cards as gifts. There was one that was particularly special, and it still hangs framed on her wall today among a few other drawings I made for her.
When I was 11-years-old, I found a butterfly wing on the ground, and the idea hit me for a card for my mother. I looked for hours after that to find two other wings. When I finally found the items I needed, I made a card that depicted a sad butterfly with one wing and a happy butterfly with two wings — I drew the butterfly bodies and glued the wings to them. The card read “We’re like wings on a butterfly, I can’t fly without you.”
That statement still rings true today.
Little things like that are what makes a bond so special. The quick passing memories from our childhood, like sitting on the couch and laughing ourselves to tears because of a funny picture we took, are the ones that become most prominent and the ones we hold most dear in later years.
When I say “mothers,” I don’t just mean biological mothers. Several women out there have taken on the role as a foster, adoptive or step- parent. These mothers are just as important to the well-being and future outcome of our society.
Though there is a special day set aside to show our mothers some extra love, we should celebrate their hard work every day, because without them we literally and metaphorically wouldn’t be here.
Happy Mothers Day to all the mothers out there who are feeling their child’s pain, holding their hand through hard times, putting up with their silliness, loving them and keeping them alive.
Happy Mothers Day mommy!