21 Today

This year marks me celebrating 21 different Mother’s Day. If you ask any mother, her answer will be the same. She can remember with shocking clarity the moment she became a mother. The answer might be different for everyone. For some, they became mothers to nieces, cousins and friends’ kids without ever having to be pregnant or give birth. For some it was the moment they realized they might be pregnant. No tests needed. Intuition as old as time told them they were carrying a mini version of themselves. For some it was when they felt the first pangs of nausea and for others when they felt those tiny feet kick for the 1st time. For some it was when they received a less than favourable diagnosis during pregnancy and started to fight for the unborn child with every fiber of their being. For some it was the moment they didn’t hear the expected cry in the delivery room. For some, it was the phone call telling them that there was a baby needing a forever home. Every mom has a different story to tell.

I have never been that conventional type of mum. Sure, I have pampered and spoiled them but for the most part -I have been tough.

All of us start motherhood with preconceived ideas of how it will go. Some of us want to be exactly how our own mothers were and some of us want to be nothing like our mothers. Some of us wanted to be Sarah Connor, some Molly Weasley and some end up being Beverly Goldberg by pure instinct.

Whichever one it is, we have all made colossal mistakes. Which had nothing to do with the kind of mothers we had but everything to do with us! Own it. There comes a point in our lives where we need to stop blaming past trauma and our own questionable upbringing. We made mistakes.

I have in no uncertain terms made it clear to my girls that they must save up money from their 1st jobs.  They will need therapy. They had me as a mother.

Now if they perchance stumble across this blog, they will ask, “Why did you write about us?”

“Because it’s MY blog. Sue me!”

They won’t. I’m a lawyer.

This is the nature of how things unfold in our home. I am not friends with my kids. I have enough friends. I used to envy people when I saw how close they were with their daughters and sons. How they discussed 1st crushes to 1st kisses to 1st dates. Oh hell no. I don’t want to know about that. Tell that to your friend.

If you tell me about your crush, I will most likely say, “Then you must be able to clean up your room without me reminding you about it. What will your crush think about your cluttered desk and unfolded clothes??”

If you want to have a boyfriend, then you should know how to earn a living, clean the toilet, mop the floors and make yourself a healthy meal by yourself.

Some of you are probably thinking but it’s science. It’s natural. Teens have crushes. Teens fall in love. Teens have raging hormones. Sure, they do.

I have laundry, dirty dishes, groceries to unpack and need to run a home.

If you think I’m hard on my kids, you best believe that if you cross them, you will get a version of me that will have you crying for your mummy. Hard doesn’t begin to describe the wrath of Lynne if you ever mess with one of my girls. Will they be disciplined for their role in any given scenario? You best believe it.

But you also better start running before I’m done with them and start with you.

I want to say after 21 years I have got a handle on this motherhood thing. Pffffffft.

No-one ever has a handle on it!

It has gone from them screaming and me trying to pacify them to us all screaming and Roland trying to pacify me. And then them.

That’s life with 3 females, with hormones (or a lack thereof) under the same roof. At any given time, there’s a likelihood of a verbal or emotional bomb going off and the debris takes some effort to clear up. During these times I have been asked, “Well, why did you have us?” to which I can only respond, “I didn’t ask Jesus for this!”

When my kids were younger, I was the kind of mum you read about in books. Soft, nurturing, full of cuddles and kisses, protective, worrying, gentle, praying and full of love. As they got older, I became the mum most sitcoms get a lot of laughs off. Strict, no nonsense, by the book, loud (ok I was always loud!), disciplinarian, the dispenser of tough rules and the type that would say to them, ‘Change your face’ if I thought they sulking.

Love looks very different now that they are older. It means trusting them to make good decisions when I’m not around. It means guiding them when they come back sheepishly having made a dumb decision. It means trying to swallow my words of, “I told you so and you did not listen” and saying, “Well it’s done and what have you learned from it?”

It’s fighting every instinct to fix everything for them. It’s worrying and laughing and fighting and arguing and wondering when did I become my mother??????

Praying for them looks very different now that they are older. It means trusting God to guide them as I never could. It means hours spent praying scripture over them that they will never know of. It means praying for wisdom and protection and good health. It means praying that they understand the role they play in the Kingdom and serving and loving like Jesus did.

To our children - no matter what kind of mistakes we have made as mothers, we are devoted, and fiercely protective. There is an element of sacrifice that is a mother’s code. Only another mum would understand it. We are devoted despite being disciplinarians. We are selfless and selfish in how we love you. We are flawed and ferocious. We are complicated.

We are instinctual and we are very seldom wrong when we have a gut feeling about something…….or someone. We have great capacity to love our own children and the whole villages children too. We will always make a plan. Always.

We never stop worrying. We never stop wanting the best for you. We never stop fighting for you to have the best life. We will never stop praying for you. Even if you are halfway across the world, even if you have your own family, even if there’s a rift, even if we don’t or can’t speak, even if we have had to let go of you from this earth- we will never stop being mums. And you will never stop being loved.

A moment to remember Jean and Mavis celebrating in heaven. You are missed on this side.