I am a mother. MOTHER.
MOM.
Ma.
MoMMy.
Wikipedia defines a mother this way:
A mother is a woman who has, conceived, given birth to, and raised a child.[1] Because of the complexity and differences of a mothers' social, cultural, and religious definitions and roles, it is challenging to define a mother to suit a universally accepted definition. The masculine equivalent is a father.
And although I might take issue with the last sentence in that statement, that is a whole other post in and of itself!
By any name, it means the same. It helps to define who I am, who I have grown to be, who I live to be.
Can't escape that title, nor would I wish to. It is something from which we as women, never outgrow. Once we become a mother, it is a title that we will always carry no matter how old our children get, no matter where they go, what they do, who they become, or God forbid, they should leave this world. We are always a mother. The worrying never ends. Oh sure, it may change a little through the years but it never quite goes away. Think back to when you were pregnant, your worried that you ate the right things, that the baby be healthy, that you might have an easy labor, what we didn't know was that was the easy part. Then when they were born, you worried about keeping them safe, your worries became more real, more grounded, it was hard to keep them safe. Safe from illness, hurt and pain, you worry that you will raise them well, that people won't cringe when they see your child coming, that he won't be known as the terror of the neighborhood, that he/she be a good person and grow to love and know God, be moral, be of good character, hold tight to what is true, to their beliefs. Some of those things never change, nor does our worry.
Which brings me to this-
My boy, my son, my child.
Keep him in your prayers today if you will. Last night he was involved in a bit of an accident, pedestrian vs. car- he being the pedestrian. He claims to be the victor, I have my doubts. He was tossed onto the hood of the car and actually broke the windshield of the car with part of his body, I am assuming it was his head knowing as I do, that that is the hardest part of his body, but I am not certain. He did not go to the hospital instead he went to work, where they promptly sent him home being that they have you know, a brain in their head!
But he's okay and I should not worry, he had two waiters check him out- one is an EMT and the other a nurse. That's encouraging. Really.
Or you know- Not!
I asked him to come home so Mom could love on him. He said ' Oh come on Mom, that's gross!'
Gross? While I beg to differ, I won't argue with him at this time, but I am saving some loving up for the next time, just you wait and see.
Guys. Ugh! Why must they be so stubborn, so bull-headed, so, so, Guyish?!
Trust me, if that had been my daughter she would have had an ambulance take her to the hospital and made sure that if it was driven by cute guys that they carried her stretcher like a throne while feeding her peeled grapes and tasty IV bag, and the driver kneel before her like a suppliant begging for a second chance. She would have been strong, but not taken any chances.
OK, well that's probably more me than Michelle, she might have fought it too but you get my point.
This driver hit my kid, with a car for crying out loud. She should have insisted that he be checked out by medical personnel and not taken any chances. Bet she's not a mom!
So anyway, say a prayer if you will. That he is safe, that he is healthy, that his head heals because we know there must be something wrong with it since he won't listen to his MOTHER!!
That's all I have to say.
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