There’s been a bit of a theme as I’ve listened in these past few weeks. A Mom theme.
“Where is your real Mom?”
“How many Moms do you have?”
“My Mom is visiting a guy. I don’t know when she’s coming back.”
“I have 2 Moms. And 2 Dads I guess. But I don’t know one of the Dads.”
“I miss my Mom.”
“I don’t know where my Mom is.”
“Do you live with your Mom?”
“She’s sad I think because she wants to see her Mom.”
“I want to make a card for my Mom. But how will I give it to her?”
“My Mom got married and she moved to a new place.”
Absent Moms. Back and forth Moms. Not quite ready Moms. Dead Moms.
This is the Mom theme in my room.
I am a Mom. I am their teacher. And I am really, really human. So often, I want to step in and be the Mom. I am fully qualified. I can give snuggles, establish bedtimes, bake muffins, walk hand in hand. I can read bedtime stories, match socks, clap the loudest at soccer games and dance performances. I can love large and unconditionally. I can treat for lice and stay up half the night when illness happens. I can beam with pride and deliver huge hugs. I can take good care.
But I have to have boundaries. They need me to be their teacher. I can’t take them all home.
Sometimes, when I see Mom touches, it’s really emotional. Because so much of what I see are signs of missing Moms. The freshly braided hair. The carefully packed snack. The collared shirt under the sweater. Clipped fingernails. Little, tiny signs. Mom presence.
There is no judgement. It’s just how it is.
But this Mom theme, it gets me big.
I am participating in the Slice of Life challenge to write and publish a post every day in March.
Slice of Life is hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I thank them for the community they provide. Read more slices here.