Is This Enough | Mother’s Day

“Mom, is this enough” he said as he placed my hand-made mother’s day card on my pillow. “You are enough” my heart sinking, as my son’s question dominated my thoughts…hoping that I’ve not given him the impression that he “owes” me for all that I do.

My lovely mother's day card.

My lovely mother’s day card.

He is after all only 7 years old and perhaps society brands “mother’s day” as a day where you should “re-pay” mom for all her work and love? Surely mothering in an innate state of being? Surely we do not market ourselves to our children as people who should be PAID. Are we not the ones who chose to be the mother’s that we are today?

Again, my thoughts running away with me!

Mother’s day is every day. It is in those moments of awe when my son get his pencil grip right (even if only for 2 minutes), it is in the joy of watching his gorgeous face as he realise that he CAN do the monkey bars.

Mother’s day is in the daily challenges I am faced with when watching his personality unfold, that look of annoyance he gives me and the squirming away from my mommy hugs.

I must admit that my son blew me away on Sunday. He dressed himself up, fancy shirt AND tie, told me to get dress nicely, which I did.

“Kai, now what?” I asked after I had my bath and dressed “nicely”. “I don’t know. How much is it to go to the Spur?” he asked, while calculating how much money he’s saved up to have his tablet screen fixed.

“Okay mom, I’m taking you to the Spur”

He took his tie off, because the Spur wasn’t a tie-kinda place. We had a lovely fund morning, we joked, watched the ocean and enjoyed each other’s company.

Calculating the waiter's tip.

Calculating the waiter’s tip.

Later, he asked “mom, how do you make dough?” “I don’t know, just figure it out” was my reply.
And he did figure it out! I switched on the oven, and placed his pink mixture in for 40 minutes. His mixture consisted of some kind of flour, eggs, water, food colouring, sugar, salt and some butter.

He served me up a pink slice of cake that tasted like floury bread!!! My stomach didn’t feel too great after my first few bites, but I soldiered on and enjoyed the labour of love!

The pink bread he made.

The pink bread he made.

Mother’s day, is in these moments, moments of just being and giving freely, without the expectation of receiving anything in return.

I love my son, and HE is enough 🙂