Sunday morning. I haven’t even opened the curtains yet because, frankly, I am still asleep.

It is Autumn in South Africa. There is just enough of a nip in the air to want to stay under the covers. I have been feeling poorly for a couple of days, and another day in bed will only do me good.

Then I hear a knock on my door — more of a bump, really — and my son comes into the room, holding a cup of tea and some biscuits. For me.

Happy Mother’s Day.

He climbs into bed with me and watches me closely as I sip the tea and dunk the biscuits. Is it good? Do you like the biscuits? Is the tea warm enough? And I love him more than anything else in the world.

I finish my treat and want to go back to sleep, but my mind keeps rolling back to the fact that I am a mother. I suppose that is what today is all about.

To be honest, I don’t spend all that much time thinking about the fact that I am a mother. My time is spent amazed at the fact that I have a son: the broken kitchen window, the underpants on the bathroom floor, tennis balls in the living room, grubby hands, constant hunger for anything but healthy food, arguments about Mbappe being better than Messi (statistics be damned!), lost little farts and the humour so singular to this little boy of mine.

Of course, I act like a mom—all the time—because I am one. I feel overwhelmed, tired, often not good enough, too strict, and too permissive.

However, watching this small human unfold is far more interesting than worrying whether or not I am having a good day as a mom. At the age of 8, he is already aware of himself as a person. He knows what he likes and dislikes. He doesn’t worry if his friends don’t agree with his opinions. He also knows that being an introvert doesn’t mean he is a weirdo. He understands that people are different, and there is nothing wrong with being different from the rest.

Yes, I sometimes want to drop him by the side of the road (and leave him there) because he played soccer with his friends and is, therefore, too tired for tennis practice. Or the constant ‘ I will do (whatever) later’. Yes, I washed my ears and scrubbed my neck. Yes, all my homework is done. Lies! All lies!

Being a mom is great and frightening. Mother’s Day can be the same. But what if we spend the day celebrating our children’s uniqueness instead of expecting all the trimmings of just another commercial ‘special day’? If we focus less on being a mother and realise that we are guides helping our kids reach their potential, perhaps we can give ourselves more of a break.

Don’t be so hard on yourself, whether you are a mom or a dad. Let’s pay more attention to the examples we set for our kids and less to how much we can make them do. It isn’t always easy because, let’s face it, things need to get done.

Let’s laugh a little more at ourselves and our children. Maybe this way, we’ll be able to enjoy that special cup of tea and biscuits every day.

intrepidly,

Anni