May 8th Mother’s Day Ain’t What It Used To Be

For years …years… my mother and I have had a rather unusual relationship. Once I left the house, Mother’s day turned into “I wonder if my son will remember Mother’s day,” and as a 31 year old man, I feel bad for her, and I’m sorry. But that was our dynamic, and I can’t really heal that bleeding wound. But now Mother’s day is going to mean something completely different for me for the rest of my life.

I’m not sure if baby JR will be blessing us with his gracious presence on Sunday, otherwise known as Mother’s Day, but he’s supposed to be my wife’s ultimate Mother’s day gift that I could ever give her… according to science. That’ right… I said it… I gave her that gift…

But all jokes aside, what once was a day that had very little meaning to me, will become the biggest day in my household. For it will be a day that may be the same birthday as my son (and even if it’s not it will inevitably be his birthday since there is no specific date for Mother’s day, because it’s created to always falls in line with Sunday because apparently you can only do brunch on Sundays), but it will also be the day that I get to glorify my wife and the mother of my child.

“But Rob, you should always glorify your wife… because she’s you’re wife… and the mother of your child.”

Right you are… however as a realist, there is this unavoidable force called life that can and will pressure you to a point of breaking; to a point where there isn’t much you can think about but how to survive, and can easily take your mind off of the “little things in life.” And believe me… I’m constantly reminded to stop and enjoy the little things.

So, I just know me—I know who I am as a person. I know that even though I undeniably love my wife for who she is and what she brings out of me… I know that I don’t show her enough. I know I don’t say “I love you” enough. I know I don’t hold her enough. I know I don’t romance her enough, or kiss her enough, or hold her hand enough…

…I know I don’t say thank you enough.

So I take this time to write about what Mother’s day means to me.

Mother’s day will remind me of who we once were. Young kids playing ball on a court, obnoxious and without responsibility, starting the butterfly effect for us to later in life meet once again.

Mother’s day will remind me of how we finally met… and had conversations… like met-met, and not I-know-you-cause-I-hang-out-with-your-sister met… A very easy conversation that lasted probably tens of minutes too long since people were waiting to get picked up at the mall entrance.

Mother’s day will remind me of small apartments, and shitty neighbors. It will remind me of unbearable landlords, and red paint… tons and tons of painting.

Mother’s day will remind me of costume parties, camping trips, snowboarding failures, museum outings, road trips, hotels, BBQ’s, and movies.

Mother’s day will remind me of sacrifice, and patience. It will remind me of loyalty and dedication. It will remind me that even though we’re thousands of miles away from each other, we can always make date nights happen.

Mother’s day will remind me of how much I’ve changed, and how much I’ve grown. Mother’s day will remind me of the responsibility I have for other people, and how much I owe to one person.

Mother’s day will remind me of the “comfortable” pregnancy, decorating the nursery, picking out names, and seeing the ultrasound for the first time.

Mother’s day will remind me of the literal joy it is to be a part of my wife’s life.

Mother’s day will bring me my first born child…. My son…

So on this Mother’s day, even if baby JR isn’t here yet I want to give this my wife this Mother’s day gift…