Mother’s Day: A Son’s Perspective

The first thing I ever was in this world was a son.

Outside of my birthday, there is no day on the calendar that is held in my honour. Although, sometimes I like to believe that “Sunday” is a typo and it’s meant to be “Sonday”, but I digress.

Over the years, I’ve become more than just a son.

Brother. Friend. Neighbour. Student. Colleague. Role Model. The guy in the cafeteria yukking it up with the ladies serving him food.

All those titles, and more. It’s a shame business cards are so small.

Even though I’ve become different things to different people, I’ll always be a son, first and foremost.

I consider myself extremely fortunate that my mother has been by my side from day one.

My mother was there when I burped loudly at my baptism and the whole church broke out into laughter.

My mother was there on my first day of junior kindergarten to take a picture of me in my Lion King backpack before officially handing me off to the education system for the next 18 years.

My mother was there when I had to sit in the hospital for 4 hours and wait for a doctor to look at a couple of swollen fingers. All the while we sat in gowns and masks because of the SARS outbreak. The only thing that kept our sanity was a picture with the word “Saskatoon” on it staring back at us across the waiting room. “Saskatoon” has never meant the same.

My mother was there every morning before school, sharpening my pencils, “just in case they all break and you’re left stranded” was her official response to, “…but you just sharpened them yesterday.”

My mother was there when I graduated from elementary school in a gymnasium that could have been mistaken for the inside of an oven.

My mother was there during my high school days, always asking if I had enough money to buy lunch.

My mother was there at my high school graduation to see me wear a hat that looked funny.

My mother was there when I moved away to University to give me one final hug in my dorm room before tears would stream down her face.

My mother was there when I needed someone to edit my essays at 5:00AM. She never yelled at me, or declined the unusual early wake up. She helped me.

My mother was there to remind me to never trust printers, or their ink levels, because an assignment is never done until it’s been printed out and stapled. Words to live by.

My mother was there when I walked across a stage and stared out into a crowd of hundreds of blurry faces – the moment when the education system finally returned me to her. The same education system she dropped me off at 18 years prior, Lion King backpack and all.

Even when my mother isn’t there physically, she is always with me.

My mother was there when I was building friendships because she taught me how to treat others.

My mother was there when I was a camp counsellor because she taught me how to be a role model.

My mother was there every day during my 4 years away at school because she learned how to text and needed to tell me everything she had done in her day, before I had even woken up to start mine.

My mother was there when I was yukking it up with the cafeteria ladies because they were my moms away from mom, and treated me like their own.

My mother was there, always.

To say my mother is incredible would be an understatement. She means so much more than a powerful adjective.

Every day of my life she has put the “M” in “Mother.” Because without it, there would just be “other”, and I know that there is no other person I’d rather have as my Mother.

She always brushes off Mother’s Day as just another day – a holiday that is made up to generate money. She always says we don’t have to do anything special for her; we do anyways.

To me, Mother’s Day is every day. It has to be. For all the reasons I listed above and millions more. I am not the person I am today, if not for everything my mother has done for me. And everything she has done for me has been every day, non-stop, since I entered this world.

Showing my appreciation on one specific day of the year, to me, is not enough. The debt is far too big.

So to all the mothers out there, Happy Mother’s Day yesterday, today, tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that.

Happy Mother’s Day, every day.

The first thing I ever was in this world was a son.

Advertisements

About Paul

This is the part where I'm supposed to write something interesting about myself and you'll read it and think, "That's not that interesting." So let's not do that and just think about pizza instead, on the count of three. One, two, three. Donuts. Now, wasn't that interesting?
This entry was posted in Life and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Mother’s Day: A Son’s Perspective

  1. Every time I read your work, it just keeps getting better and better! 🙂

    Like

  2. Aww Paulie! This is super cute! I had a lion king backpack too! Simba and Zazzu! 😀
    Your mommy should be proud and flattered by this post!

    Like

  3. Little Rants says:

    This is so beautiful, Paul!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s