Mother’s Day is a right of passage.
I didn’t understand this until I found myself actually looking forward to the holiday. It was as though I had finally been granted access to an exclusive club I didn’t even realize I wanted access to.
The Mother’s Day Club.
It’s a club most well-known for its breakfasts in bed and bouquets of flowers. Yet outside the Hallmark sentiments, it’s actually quite a complicated club to belong to.
It’s a club consisting of women who spend months on end in the NICU, praying their child can eventually come home. Women who fight tooth and nail for a healthy breastfeeding relationship with their baby, despite every single obstacle standing in their way. Women of surprise multiples or Irish twins who suddenly have to move homes in search of more space, newborns in tow. Women who bleed and tear and ache on the way to motherhood and continue to bleed and tear and ache long after. Women who have had to bury their children yet never stop being mothers. Women who are mother figures to littles who may not be theirs by blood, but might as well be by love. And women who suffer through infertility, despite their deepest desires to carry a child.
Such are the women I have been blessed to know just in the past year.
This is the Mother’s Day Club, and it’s a club I am humbled and privileged to belong to.
Sure, there may have been a substantial part of me that just wanted a “day off” from motherhood on Mother’s Day. But there was also a part of me that wanted to spend the entire day with my family without task lists and to-do’s — to be fully present and fully appreciative of the gifts I have been given and to honor all of the other aforementioned women as they deserved.
So no. I did not take a “day off” [because are moms even allowed to do that??]. Instead, I sang in choir at church and gathered with several other new moms to play pass-the-babies. I planted our garden in honor of a tradition my own mom helped establish last year when I was pregnant. I escaped the house for a picnic in the park with Jason, Lilia, and Watson to revel in nature, food, and family without worry or agenda. And I belly laughed when — after all of this — my daughter still decided to pee on me and put me in my rightful place.
I never realized how much I wanted to be a part of the Mother’s Day Club, but now that I’m in — I can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be.
This tzatziki has been a staple in our fridge for weeks now and served an essential role in our Mother’s Day picnic spread. For best results, use the highest fat Greek yogurt you can find!
- 24-oz Greek yogurt [about 2/3 of a 32-oz tub]
- 1 English cucumber, grated
- 3 cloves garlic
- 1 box [.66 oz] of dill
- Juice from 1/2 lemon
- Black pepper to taste
- Shred cucumber and apply generous amount of salt to de-water. Let sit for 30 minutes, then wring out in a dish towel to remove excess water.
- While cucumber de-waters, chop dill and garlic. Mix with yogurt.
- Add lemon juice, black pepper, and cucumber to yogurt mixture and combine thoroughly.
- Refrigerate at least one hour before serving.