Mother’s Day

The funny thing about Mother’s Day and the celebration of it is that I, the Urban Single Mom, single mom to 14-year-old Troll 1 and (almost) 12-year-old Troll 2, hardly pay the day any mind.

Investigation into why remains sketchy.

Part of the I-Don’t-Celebrate-Mother’s-Day debacle includes the fact that I myself have a mom who, physical pains and ailments aside, is still very much alive and kicking. So even though I am a mom, and have been a mom for what feels like the past fifty thousand years… I have a mom.

And by virtue of that, my own Mom-ness comes well and truly second.

No, seriously. It does. For that one day, every year, my Mom-ness doesn’t matter.

Only hers does.

Because she is the proverbial seed from which this tree sprouted.

Of course the kiddos try in their own small, hilarious way to make me feel loved up on the day, but then again, when do they not? The love I get from my two monsters is my bragging right, and I’ll be the first one to tell you that I’m spoiled for life when it comes to those two.

Raising The Trolls solo might be the hardest thing I have ever done, with exhaustion levels way over any permissible human limit and a list of bills and expenses twice as tall as I am, but when it comes to hugs, kisses, hands to hold and people who’ve got my back, I’m pretty much set for life.

The Trolls and I are tight like that. Whether the sun shines and we’re out and about spending dollar bills and having a good ol’ time, or whether the bottom drops out and we’re back to bread, butter and the basics, we’ve got each other.

We love each other because we love each other.

No explanation or justification needed.

As such, I couldn’t really give a rat’s backside whether they make me breakfast in bed on Sunday. They do that when they see I need it in any case. I don’t require them to shower me with an abundance of affection come the weekend. In truth, I demand to be held and comforted on any given bad day or any given moment of heartbreak.

I don’t even expect them to shower me with gifts because they are kids and don’t earn their own money. So any money spent on perfume or jewellery, chocolates or cards… comes from my pocket anyway.

And honestly, that money can be better spent.

What I do require from myself and my boys come Sunday morning is that we, as a unit, whether rain or shine, pitch up and be there for my mother. In any and all ways she requires of us.

Because she is the seed that gave life and gives life its meaning every single day. I never knew my grandma, but The Trolls are two little buggers who are lucky enough to have a grandmother who is not only alive, but who showers them with equal amounts of love, eccentricity, candy and cookies all day long.

As for me, I’ll be ignoring my own needs and will be in full-scale daughter mode, making sure her day is as beautiful as she is.

Because she is the root and cause of who I am as a mother.

And love? Love is a doing thing.

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