So when do you stop being a mom?

I was chatting with a friend of mine about Mother’s Day. Her mother lives in Ottawa, so does she. My friend is in her 20’s and has children. She will call her mother on Mother’s day. She will not do more than that. She feels that her mother has had her chance at Mother’s day and now it is her turn to shine. I guess for her, her mother’s job is finished.

Being a mother means living with your heart walking around outside of your body. It means tensing up when the phone rings and it is the school/day care/person who has your child. Being a mom means that you understand what it is like to love someone so much you think that you could explode with it. It also means that you understand being so angry/frustrated/disappointed that you could explode with it-yet desperately loving them at the same time. Motherhood is full of conflicting emotions.

So when will I be finished being a mom? Has my mom stopped being my mom? I guess it depends on how rigid or fluid your definition of the role is. I still call my mom every time I screw up a recipe and ask her what I can do to save it. I still give my children’s ripped clothing to my mom to sew (I never came out of the house with a sewing machine, I’ll still using that as an excuse!), my mom is well known by Monkey’s day care and has car seats in her car. My children each sleep at Grandma and Grandpa’s house a couple of times per month.

My mom doesn’t take care of me when I’m sick, she hasn’t in years, but she has taken my sick kids for me when the situation arose. She doesn’t pay my bills any more, but she helped to teach me how to pay them for myself. My mom no longer drives me to and from the mall or part time jobs, but next Friday she’ll drive me to get my second annual mammogram and ultrasound so that I don’t have to go alone.

My children run past me and right into my mother’s arms. I don’t have a room at her house anymore, but they do. My mother stocked her house completely with dairy free foods when Big C and I couldn’t eat dairy. She taught herself to make soy, dairy free, cheesecake. My mother got invited to the volunteer breakfast at Monkey’s school since she has helped out as much as I have this year.

So, is she done being my mom? Is her job complete? She’s had more than thirty years at this so should I just not bother to recognise the day? After all, I’m on my own and a mother now by my own rights. In my opinion, to do so would be to forget that she has spent thirty years earning the role. Thirty years of sleeping lightly by the phone. Thirty years of teaching, listening, shaking her head with a wry smile and sighing. So many cultures celebrate their elders. In this culture we tend to disregard ours. My mom is still my mom, I still need her. There are still some parts of my life that are empty without her there. She has made me the person and mother that I am today. She and I will both be mothers until the day we no longer walk this earth.

Happy Mother’s Day mom.