This Sunday is the day we mothers wait for all year. The day when breakfast is served in bed by our proud children who leave a lovely mess in the kitchen for us to clean up after we rise. The day we take a vow not to touch the laundry even though the numerous piles of dirty clothes lay waiting in our closets, on kids bedroom floors and hanging out of hampers mocking us knowing there will be more joining it the next day. Yes, Mother's Day is the day our children and our spouses sit up, take notice and appreciate all that we do....for 15 minutes....until the bickering over whose card you must open first, which restaurant we will go to for dinner and why they waited all weekend to begin the witching hour of homework. It is a glorious day.
The tradition of celebrating Mother's Day is documented as far back as the Ancient Greeks with the annual spring ritual of honoring Rhea, the mother of many deities. The Ancient Romans also honored a mother goddess by the name of Cybele during the festival of Hilaria which lasted three days and included parades, games and masquerades. Three days? Parades and games all in celebration of mothers? Clearly, I was born too late. As for our more modern Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis is recognized as the founder of Mother's Day in the US. Although never a mother herself, Ms. Jarvis fought tirelessly to have a day to commemorate and honor mothers throughout the country as a way of honoring her own mother who had such a profound impact on her life. Even though all the ads in the Sunday paper the week before Mother's Day remind us to treat mom right by purchasing her jewelry, flowers, clothes and iPads, this was never Ms Jarvis' intent when she founded Mother's Day. In fact, poor Anna Jarvis was reportedly horrified by the commercialization of what she felt was a near sacred day. While I enjoy the idea of Grecian and Roman men in togas praying to a mother goddess like myself and although I firmly believe every mother should be worshipped and allowed a pilgrimage each Mother's Day to a retail mecca of her choice, I AWEnestly think Anna Jarvis had it right. I have received many beautiful Mother's Day gifts over the past 15 years, but my most beautiful Mother's Day gift was a homemade card lovingly and painstakingly created by a very special boy who happens to despise writing, drawing and the feel of paper.
It was just last Mother's Day when I received beautifully hand crafted cards from my little darlings. Emma's was sweet and bright, just like her. Kyle's was full of love and funny, just like him. But it was Ryan's card that made mine and Anna Jarvis' dream come true. This little boy who hates paper, writing, drawing and anything having to do with creativity, went at this piece of paper like a new level in a Mario game. Ryan was so caught up in making this card for his beloved Mama, that Dan felt the need to capture it on video. That card and that video allowed a glimpse inside my boy's beautiful heart and it literally took my breath away. I read the words he so neatly wrote and created on his own, "I'm sure to know that I'm the luckiest child alive. Do you know the reason? Answer: YOU!! (with a perfectly shaped heart right in the middle of the letter O) Happy Mother's Day! xoxoxo". The words were as poetic as any verse composed by Emily Dickinson. The hearts outlining the entire front of the card drawn by a boy who begs not to go to school on Cycle Day 6 because it's art class day, were as beautiful and as bold as any van Gogh watercolor. The video....oh my, the video....watching the intensity of his creation, the intensity of his love....Steven Spielberg couldn't have captured it any better. I collapsed in a puddle of tears (van Gogh would have loved to paint that scene). I AWEnestly don't know how my heart didn't burst right there on my back porch. I have never doubted Ryan's love for me, but this was so visceral, so real, so worth every fear, doubt, worry and heartache I had endured over that stupid A word. This love from a child to his mother that only a few decades ago would have been believed as improbable was a gift that no department store, not even Barneys could out do.
Many children on the autism spectrum have a difficult time reading and understanding emotions thus they may not reciprocate their emotions or feelings the same way a neurotypical child does. Facial expressions and body language are often lost on them, however, these children can still bond and still love. One of the biggest myths of autism is that autistic people don't feel and know love. Imagine being a neurotic mother with callused fingers from Googling the word "autism" and reading those words. I was utterly terrified and sick at the thought Ryan might not ever know how much I love him. Thank goodness, this alleged "unawareness" of love for those on the spectrum is nothing more than a myth and a lack of understanding. Certainly some children may express their love "better" than others, but isn't that true for all people? Whether a child shouts "I love my mother" from the roof tops or purrs like a cat while rubbing his head against your shoulder, the message of love is clear, just different.
When my callused fingers and I were constantly web surfing, I would tell myself that Ryan most certainly did not have autism because he did not "arch or pull away" from my touch (too much). He was not resistant to being cuddled or snuggled, at least not by me so he surely must not be autistic. Of course as my bleeding fingers would scroll to the bottom of the page, there in the fine print would be something like this, "a child may form a bond with a parent or sibling, but this should not rule out a diagnosis of autism". Click the X, turn off the computer and run away. Unfortunately, no matter how far or fast I ran, I couldn't escape what I knew was true. Early on, I was the only person Ryan allowed to snuggle, cuddle or tickle his back. He permitted others to tend to his needs and if I wasn't around, Dan made a fine substitute, but it was his mother's arms that he felt safest in, his mother's voice that soothed his anxiety of the loud, unpredictable world, his mother's hands he entrusted with a comb or a toothbrush, and it was his mother's heart that he entrusted his own heart to. It is still that way today. What a gift for me.
When my callused fingers and I were constantly web surfing, I would tell myself that Ryan most certainly did not have autism because he did not "arch or pull away" from my touch (too much). He was not resistant to being cuddled or snuggled, at least not by me so he surely must not be autistic. Of course as my bleeding fingers would scroll to the bottom of the page, there in the fine print would be something like this, "a child may form a bond with a parent or sibling, but this should not rule out a diagnosis of autism". Click the X, turn off the computer and run away. Unfortunately, no matter how far or fast I ran, I couldn't escape what I knew was true. Early on, I was the only person Ryan allowed to snuggle, cuddle or tickle his back. He permitted others to tend to his needs and if I wasn't around, Dan made a fine substitute, but it was his mother's arms that he felt safest in, his mother's voice that soothed his anxiety of the loud, unpredictable world, his mother's hands he entrusted with a comb or a toothbrush, and it was his mother's heart that he entrusted his own heart to. It is still that way today. What a gift for me.
I remember trying to convince the pediatrician that Ryan did not have autism by bragging about how affectionate Ryan was with me and the doctor said, "Of course he is, you are his mother". I am his mother. Those four words...those four beautiful words spoke volumes to me as they have for all mothers for thousands of years. There is no love like a mother's love....sorry dads....yours is good too, just different. A mother's love is fierce, it is ferocious, it is primal. The mother elephant not only spends 22 months pregnant (can you imagine?) and gives birth to a 225 pound baby (God bless her), but a mother elephant will also protect her baby by instinctively putting herself between a hungry lion and her calf. The life of her child outweighs her own instinct to survive. These mother elephants are so smart and so loving that when they decide to take a quick stroll for some tastier grass, or just need a little Mommy time, they put their babies in the care and custody of other mother elephants. We moms, regardless of species, must stick together because only another mother knows the powerful connection between mother and child (or mother and calf). I so love that even elephants recognize that "Mother knows best".
Ryan most certainly does not believe that "Mother knows best" because I am told several times a week that I am wrong, and "not that smart", but to this day, he loves me like no other. This love is the payoff for being the person he gets most frustrated with, who he yells at and who he occasionally gives the old passive aggressive slight shove when overwhelmed. I take the brunt because he knows no matter what, as his mother, I will always, always love him. This love just intensifies the guilt when I have horrible moments where I lose my temper, scream, swear and as Ryan calls it, "have a fit". Moments that I'm not proud of and convince me that I'm not worthy of a three day parade or even a 24 hour laundry free day to honor me.
One particularly ugly moment had to do with Ryan switching over from the lightweight fleece coat to the heavy winter coat. Ryan wanted no part of that coat and come hell or high water, I was going to make sure he put it on. I begged, bribed and coerced, but that coat wasn't going on. A good mother would have just let him wear the fleece and freeze, but not me, I was going to win and AWEnestly, at that point it wasn't about him catching a chill, it was all about me winning. With seconds until the bus arrived, I tried again, this time shouting, "Put your coat on NOW!", to which he responded, "Only if you say it nicely." Through a fake smile and gritted teeth I kindly seethed, "Please put your coat on." to which he promptly responded no again. Something inside me snapped and the world turned red, and I screamed, "Put your (insert F word here that is not the word "Friend" and add the suffix "ing") coat on now! Was that nice enough for you?!" Lo and behold that boy put his coat on for fear, unlike the protective mother elephant, more like the mother hamster, I might just turn on him and eat him. We were both in tears and yes, he missed the bus, but not a single bite mark on him.
AWE-inspiring moments and AWE-ful moments, we mothers have them all. Throw in a dash of AWE-tism and those moments just tend to be a wee bit more extreme. Yes, mothers are worthy and certainly deserve to have a day or three to honor our commitment, our sacrifices and our unyeilding love for our children. We deserve parades, parties, jewelry (sorry Anna Jarvis) and statues erected in our honor because as mothers, we love like no other. Our children feel this love regardless of any different ability they may have, regardless of how often "we have a fit" and regardless of how many times we make the grilled cheese sandwich "too brown".
On my best day, I am a mother elephant wielding my tusks at the school bus bully or those ignorant enough to believe "different" means "less". On an average day, I'm a chipped, covered in bird poop, tarnished Greek maternal goddess statue returning the Sugar Free Jello Pudding for the fifth time in exchange for the Original (please, please Jello change your packaging), but even on my worst day, when I scream, swear and watch my kids eyes fill with wonder at the transformation from loving Super Mom to Satan's sister, I am still NOT a hamster mother and have never once considered my children lunch. Regardless of the kind of day I'm having as a mom, I am loved by my children and without a doubt, they each believe they are the "luckiest child alive" because I am their MOTHER. Yeah, I'll take that....365 days a year!
One particularly ugly moment had to do with Ryan switching over from the lightweight fleece coat to the heavy winter coat. Ryan wanted no part of that coat and come hell or high water, I was going to make sure he put it on. I begged, bribed and coerced, but that coat wasn't going on. A good mother would have just let him wear the fleece and freeze, but not me, I was going to win and AWEnestly, at that point it wasn't about him catching a chill, it was all about me winning. With seconds until the bus arrived, I tried again, this time shouting, "Put your coat on NOW!", to which he responded, "Only if you say it nicely." Through a fake smile and gritted teeth I kindly seethed, "Please put your coat on." to which he promptly responded no again. Something inside me snapped and the world turned red, and I screamed, "Put your (insert F word here that is not the word "Friend" and add the suffix "ing") coat on now! Was that nice enough for you?!" Lo and behold that boy put his coat on for fear, unlike the protective mother elephant, more like the mother hamster, I might just turn on him and eat him. We were both in tears and yes, he missed the bus, but not a single bite mark on him.
AWE-inspiring moments and AWE-ful moments, we mothers have them all. Throw in a dash of AWE-tism and those moments just tend to be a wee bit more extreme. Yes, mothers are worthy and certainly deserve to have a day or three to honor our commitment, our sacrifices and our unyeilding love for our children. We deserve parades, parties, jewelry (sorry Anna Jarvis) and statues erected in our honor because as mothers, we love like no other. Our children feel this love regardless of any different ability they may have, regardless of how often "we have a fit" and regardless of how many times we make the grilled cheese sandwich "too brown".
On my best day, I am a mother elephant wielding my tusks at the school bus bully or those ignorant enough to believe "different" means "less". On an average day, I'm a chipped, covered in bird poop, tarnished Greek maternal goddess statue returning the Sugar Free Jello Pudding for the fifth time in exchange for the Original (please, please Jello change your packaging), but even on my worst day, when I scream, swear and watch my kids eyes fill with wonder at the transformation from loving Super Mom to Satan's sister, I am still NOT a hamster mother and have never once considered my children lunch. Regardless of the kind of day I'm having as a mom, I am loved by my children and without a doubt, they each believe they are the "luckiest child alive" because I am their MOTHER. Yeah, I'll take that....365 days a year!
Well, we were on a safari, but fortunately the lion was behind an invisible fence. I'm convinced I would have thrown myself to the lion to save them though!
A Mother's Day hike last year. It was hot, buggy, and there were plenty of complaints, but it was still fabulous. Anna Jarvis would have been proud.
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