I Cry For You 

Sometimes I cry for you, little one.

Sometimes I cry because the world is so big and you’re so small, and I worry—Oh, do I worry—about your smallness in this big world.

Sometimes I cry because you’re so big and I’m so small, and the bigger you get to me, the smaller I get to you, and I worry—Lord, how I worry—about my smallness in your big world.

Sometimes I cry because this love is too big and my heart is too small, and a bursting heart feels—strangely, painfully—an awful lot like a breaking one.

Sometimes I cry because I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of you.

Sometimes I cry because I’m overwhelmed by the weight of you.

Sometimes I cry because in the process of gaining you, I gave up a version of me, and though I wouldn’t change that even if I could, sometimes I miss me desperately.

Sometimes I cry because your skin is so soft, and your eyes are so bright, and your soul is so new, and your heart is so open, and I’m sad. I’m sad that your innocence will crumble from experiences brutal and necessary, because you are as painfully human as the rest of us.

Sometimes I cry because you need help in ways that I can’t help you, and helplessness as a parent feels—strangely, surprisingly—an awful lot like sheer terror.
Sometimes I cry because as a mother I have no choice but to put on my big-girl panties every day, and both of those things—having no choice and big-girl panties—can be really, really uncomfortable.
Sometimes I cry because I am so unbelievably tired—not sleepy, but tired—that I can’t do anything else.

Sometimes I cry because I hear God in your giggles.
Sometimes I cry because your very existence evokes a joy so profound that smiles and laughter can’t quite reach it.

Sometimes I cry because this blessing is so big and my cup is so small and the overflow has to go somewhere.

Sometimes I cry because all of these things—the love, the worry, the sadness, the beauty, the bursting, the big-girl panties, the blessing—it’s all too much to take. Just too, too much.
So sometimes I cry for you. And for me. And for this big world. And for a thousand other terrible, wonderful, desperate, beautiful reasons that you won’t understand until you’re a parent.

Sometimes I cry for you, little one. Big, cleansing tears.

Beautiful Thinking on this coming Mother’s Day, I hope you enjoyed it as I did. 
 

The Importance of Mother’s Day

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Mother’s Day had become a commercial holiday in my eyes abused by capitalism and retailers to extract as much money out of everyone as possible. I became relaxed about the day. It was just another Sunday in May because I think about my mother every day.

However, my feelings changed when I became a mother, of course they did. Everything changes when you birth a child. I began to see Mother’s Day as a day to be treated special and to be encouraged of how lucky I am to finally know the feeling of being a mother. I finally understood why my mother and aunts loved Mother’s Day so much. I asked a few friends what Mother’s Day means to them now that they are mothers themselves and we all agree on how special is now because of our children making us feel special.

Now that I’m a mother, I really love Mother’s Day from the handmade invitation to have breakfast at my son’s preschool, to the excitement important up to the event even that he is only 2 years and 5 month old, to the way he sees me in front of his classmates. The adorable gifts he’s made for me will always mean more to me than anything store bought I’ve ever received. It’s such a sweet holiday for me. I remember when I was a young girl; the emotion to wait for my mom at school on these special events makes me feel excited and compromise with my son, and I understand how my son will always feel about this special day.

Perhaps one of the problems is that society has tried to make Mother’s Day a tribute to women in general. This is one of our greatest errors. We don’t make Father’s Day a tribute to men everywhere, no it is a day for dad. Let’s make sure we not only do something special for her but tell her how deeply she is cared for and appreciated this Mother’s Day. I cannot think of a more thankless job. I hate to even call it a job, but it is work, with long hours, no vacations and no pay.

 

Ask almost any mother out there and they will tell you that there is not a more rewarding job/role to have then to be a mother. That pride, that feeling starts the moment they find out that they are pregnant, it as if life now has a deeper meaning and if you watch, if you pay attention you will see the woman you once knew become one of the most amazing women you will ever meet.