This week's theme is mother. I suppose that Mother's Day is coming up. But what can be said, how can a mother be depicted in a way that has not been done before? We love our mothers, and if we don't particularly love our own mother, then there is usually a mother -figure that we love dearly. If we choose to become one, we love being a mother. As children, we often dream and pretend that one day we will be a mother, or as young adults we spend a lot of time avoiding these games, swearing that we will never be mothers. We love Mother Earth. Our mothers our beautiful because of their flaws as much as they are beautiful in their own unique perfections. I have recently become a mother. It is more than I could have imagined it to be, and exactly as I imagined it. It is raw. It is dirty. It is exhausting. It is beautiful. And I love it.
Oddly, while I was expecting my first child, I spent a lot of time thinking about the baby- how I would care for her/him, what sort of edifying activities I would enroll him/her in. I worried about learning all I could about basic baby care. I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about myself, picturing myself as a mother, and I guess in many ways this was my first introduction to being a mother: pure, selfless devotion to the little being whose life I am now responsible for shaping, molding and sustaining.
I scrub, I cook, I build, and cultivate. I lift and carry, I bend and stoop. My veins pulse with life and vigor. I have chipped and cracked nails. My callouses are stained with juices of berries picked with love, with finger paints, with dirt. These hands knead and stir, they rub sore tummies, they wipe bums and tears. They carry toys, teddies, fears, dreams, and sleeping bodies. They mend scraped knees and socks. They caress sleepy heads and carry tired bodies to bed.
Next week's theme: Up