I knew even at an early age that I'd won the parental lottery.
My mother is a ceaselessly supportive, hopeful, and unstoppable force of love. Yes, she may look human, but the woman who dealt with my devious little child self with such patience and taught me good manners despite my selfish ego is one heck of a hero, if not a true saint. Not only did her firstborn child flip around feet first right before birth (So sorry, Mom!), but I came out possessed of a steadfast determination to test my mortality using all manner of wooden objects. The kitchen table, the bench swing, and even our firewood pile bore witness to my exuberant sense of "What will this do if I jump on it?"
The answer: It hurt, that's what.
Not badly however, because Mom immediately swooped in and checked me over for injury.
Sometimes she'd already lifted me away from whatever mess I'd created before I even registered that I'd bumped my head.
That's the beauty of mothers. They just know.
My mother, fortunately, served as a natural teacher. Our soft life stayed soft because she engineered it that way- no unsafe toys came into the house, no bad word left her lips, and no hug was ever unreturned. I'm amazed at how she ceaselessly supported our adventuring while still instilling enough caution to keep us from hurting ourselves as we got older as she carefully peeled back the layers of controlled risk. It can't have been easy for her to let us go beyond the carefully curated safe zone, where other people could impart the kinds of hurt we'd never receive at home.
Mom gave us the treasure of attention, always.
When she was planning to go back to school to get her Master's degree in education, she first asked my little sister and I if we'd be okay with her no longer staying at home with us. I immediately agreed, because if my mother became a teacher, it meant we got to share her with other kids!
Mom, of course, went on to become the kind of teacher that grown students joyously greet in the supermarket... Even if she didn't teach them personally. Smiling parents tend to remember her, too, which is even more telling.
I have no words for how proud that makes me, because my mother is the kind of light that should always beam down upon a child. When other people notice how wonderful she is, I approve their good taste. She just brings out the sparkle of life, and frankly I don't believe she gets nearly the amount of appreciation she deserves.
Cue Love Mama Day!
Love Mama Day touches me in a way that no other production, even Little Women, has.
Mother's Day always seems to go by in a flurry of cards and dinners, where the pressure to do something or be somewhere can sometimes take away from the comfort of just being.
Love Mama Day offers the opportunity to just be.
Just like my childhood home, the kids will play together down the hall. There will be shouting and giggling, just like there always will be when groups of children get together. There will be snacks so tasty my mouth waters remembering how our caterer described them. There will be things to do and words to write and stories to share.
Most importantly, I'll be able to provide a peaceful pause local mothers, marvelous women like my own amazing mother, who have brought bright new humans into the world and helped them toddle to their feet.
Raising up humankind is not a simple task.
If you’d like to help me celebrate the Mamas and bring joyful creativity to the Kids, you can volunteer to be a part of team:
Donate Some Supplies
And for all of the Mamas, get your tickets HERE and prepare to be pampered!