The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

Can a mother really be your best friend? I have friends and family members who claim it is possible. At the very least, they consider their moms to be some of the people they are closest to. Someone they can go to for anything.

I wonder what that’s like.

It must be nice to have someone to call when you had a hard day and need an encouraging word. Or have a home to go to and know you will get a comforting meal and a hug. A safe place where there is no judgement or negativity, only unconditional love.

I don’t know what that’s like, and sometimes it makes me sad.

I have a mother here on this Earth, and she is in my life, but our relationship is strained and distanced—a necessary measure to keep my heart intact.

I’m endlessly stuck in the dilemma of wanting to cut out my mother—the woman who prayed for me and grew me in her womb—from my life to save my sanity, to believing she will become the mother I pray for, someone who is warm, positive, and loving.

My reality is that neither is likely to happen. 

I read stories of women who love their mothers and have such special bonds with them, and I can’t help but be a little envious. How did they get such wonderful moms? 

Sure, there were good times growing up. My sister and I lived in a comfortable home and our physical needs were met. My mom loved celebrations and made Christmas a kid’s dream.

But love doesn’t come in packages. It isn’t wrapped up in a pretty bow. Love should speak from soul to soul. It’s a warm grip of a mother’s hand when you’re scared. It’s a hug that you never want to end. It’s three simple words that speak from the heart and are never forced.

It’s hard to be a mom myself when I don’t have my own to lean on in times of difficulty. I’m afraid to pick up the phone and call my mom because I never know what kind of mood she will be in, and I don’t know if I have the energy to fight off the negativity that rolls so freely from her tongue.

I spent many years in agony grieving my mom and the emotional neglect I experienced. Then one day I decided I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I wouldn’t let her dark waters pull me under.

I realized that I can’t control her, and I can’t change her. I am only in charge of my happiness. So I keep her at an arm’s length. 

While my mom isn’t a role model of how I want to mother my children, she sets the mold of what not to be. I want to make sure my kids know how much I love them and how grateful I am to have them in my life. I don’t just tell them I love them—I show them.

I show them with countless hugs for no reason other than I want to hold them. 

I show them with kisses—goodnight kisses on the lips, and pecks on their cheeks and hands, soaking up every bit of that sweet child innocence.

I show them by telling them I miss them when I’m at work and encourage them to share with me their feelings. Love is big and complex and deserves to be talked about.

So while I grieve the mom I never had, I’m giving my all to make sure I am the mom my kids need. My kids will know how much I love them because they will feel it. They will know their worth and never question how happy and proud I am to be their mom.

You may also like:

My Toxic Mother Made Me a Better Parent

To My Mom: I Get It Now

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

Soon There Will Be No More Breakfasts To Make

In: Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Ten boy eating breakfast at kitchen counter

T-minus 44 days until a new beginning- Math has never been my strong suit or my favorite subject, but it will be about 19 years spent rising and trying to shine in our house. Nineteen years of prepping one, two, or all three of our sons to get up and ready for school. Nineteen years of making breakfast. Nineteen years of making lunches. For those of you in the thick of it right now, you know exactly what I mean. I think my husband Steve and I have it down to a science now. If we had to do it...

Keep Reading

I’m Going to Tell You the Things Your Mom Should Have Told You

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother with three grown daughters

During my oldest daughter’s freshman year of college, I started being haunted by a recurring dream of an old-fashioned suitcase—one of those hard-sided ones that’s as big as they come. In the dream, when I open the suitcase, it’s overflowing with clothing, shoes, and all kinds of stuff that belongs to me and each of my three daughters. Everything in the suitcase is all jumbled together. Nobody else in the dream is worried about sorting through everything, but I am totally stressed about it. To top it all off, I have to deal with this suitcase while preparing for a...

Keep Reading

The Half-Dressed Mom and Love in the Details

In: Motherhood
Woman sitting with coffee cup and book on bed

I am a proper mom. Not fancy, not prim—practical. I am dressed for the time of day, always. That is simply who I am. Except for this morning. This morning I was in a towel, bracing the bathroom counter, writhing in pain, and trying not to scream loud enough to disturb the neighbors. I had seen a specialist just the day before. He’d said I needed six weeks to heal before they could do further exploration. What he hadn’t said—what I hadn’t understood—was how much the healing itself would hurt. My 23-year-old daughter, Aislyn, found me like that. Panicked. Half-dressed....

Keep Reading

Mommy, Will You Play With Me?

In: Kids, Motherhood
Boy sitting in middle of toys smiling

With four kids at three different schools, our days are full. Between sports practices, music lessons, clubs, rehearsals, games, meets, and playdates, it feels like we’re constantly heading somewhere. I love that my children are involved in activities, but occasionally, it’s nice to have some downtime. When I get a text or email that a practice has been canceled, it’s usually a huge relief. Last week, after-school sports were cancelled due to heavy rain. When I picked up my youngest son from school, I told him we’d be going straight home for the rest of the afternoon. He looked surprised....

Keep Reading

Could We Take a Page from the ’80s and Stop Overparenting?

In: Kids, Motherhood

I have a confession: Yesterday I let my 11-year-old play with fire. Like literally. We live in the country, there is still wet snow on the ground, and he’s done it with his dad at least 20 times. But yesterday was the fifth consecutive day of no school, and probably the twentieth consecutive day of him asking to have a small fire without dad. Part of me did it out of laziness. Part of me did it out of selfishness. And part of me did it out of nostalgia. Here’s the thing—when I was 11, I was already babysitting (like...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

Good Mothers Bake from Scratch, and Other Lies I’ve Believed

In: Motherhood
Smiling women in selfie outside

I am standing at the kitchen counter, spooning banana mix into a muffin tin, when my daughter makes a proposal. “How about dis . . . ?” Presley begins, pausing for dramatic effect. “How about I put four chocolate chips on each muffin because dat’s how old I am?” I smile at her logic. Once every pink polka-dotted liner is filled with batter and topped with exactly four chocolate chips, I place both tins on the middle rack and set a timer. Presley runs out of the room and returns with her plastic step stool, placing it directly in front...

Keep Reading

My ‘Dusty Son’ is 5

In: Living, Motherhood
Little boy holding out dandelion bouquet

As moms, we categorize everything. Girl mom. Boy mom. Wine mom. Outdoor mom. Farm mom. City mom. Now there’s been an uptick in social media trends about exposing our girls to worldly and fancy experiences so someday they’re “not impressed by your dusty son.” I won the parenting jackpot (in my humble opinion) and have an older daughter and a younger son. He’s five. Not a grown man making real-world decisions. Not a college kid learning how to adult. He’s five. He loves dinosaurs and Mario. His big sissy and his Great Dane. He is incapable of cruelty and is...

Keep Reading

These Little Moments Are Everything

In: Motherhood
Mother embracing young child who is kissing her cheek

I almost missed it, my little one. How your eyebrows lift in quiet concentration as you carefully place each block, adding a new wall to your tiger castle. The way you say “scoop over, mom” and shuffle closer to me until our legs touch. “Just one second, bud.” The mantra of all busy moms. I almost missed your blonde hair flying wild as you bounce on the trampoline, that belly laugh that makes the whole world feel soft. I almost missed it. How you close your eyes as you crack the biggest, cheekiest smile when I tickle your belly, giggling...

Keep Reading