A Shout-Out to All You Muthas

Because of the name of this blog (and of course, my alias) I feel compelled to write a piece on Mother’s Day.

I need to mention that I love my mother. Get this: I even love my mother-in-law. And the one grandmother I knew – you guessed it, also loved her. And my love is not just delivered automatically because of some bible commandment. Oh, heaven forbid. No, these women are all a kick-in-the-pants. But what did I learn about being a mother from the women who showed me how it was done?

Believe it or not, that makes me think of a moment with my dad (but I’m not jumping a holiday, so stick with me). My father had all brothers and then a whole mess of sons before I came a long. To say he felt ill equipped to deal with me in my adolescence is a vast understatement. During the height of my puberty in the heat of an argument, my father asked,
“Why do you act this way?!”
The answer was clear. All he needed to do was look at the woman who raised him and the woman he had married. For all the ways they were completely different, they were both mouthy. Both funny. Both smart. And neither one was ever going to let someone tell them what to do.

So, here is to the women who have children but take no shit. The ones who do not want misty photographs of roses on their cards, or pastels of any kind anywhere, and who don’t let anyone tell them what to do – ever. To really mother is to be the stunt-double for the myth of motherhood. It is frightening, painful and joyous, miraculous.
To the women who take on motherhood in this fashion: Bravo, kick-ass.

And to you, I say,

Happy Mutha’s Day