While celebrating a past birthday with friends, we decided to wander the shops of our edgy downtown street. We stepped into one of my favorite places, a shop where vintage artwork popped from every corner and handmade jewelry hung from pegs. I hadn't planned on buying anything, but then I saw it: a pendant necklace that said, "Best Mom Ever."
"Can I buy this for myself [1]?" I chuckled to my friends. Immediately, of course, they all said, "Yes." I took it to the register and paid.
I am my children's only mom, and therein lies a gift beyond any bronze chain, a gift that says no one else can validate nor eradicate what I know to be true.
When I got home, I showed it to my husband. "That's hilarious," he said, and we laughed together. I admit that I felt somewhat like Michael Scott from The Office, who kept a self-purchased "Best Boss Ever" mug on his desk. I know these types of things aren't meant to be purchased by the wearer, but given as a gift. But that necklace was beautiful and seemed like the perfect thing to dress up my frequent outfits of t-shirts and jeans. So why couldn't I get it for myself?
My children are still in the stages [3] where they constantly shower me with love no matter what. They still want to snuggle [4] in the morning and they always want extra hugs at bedtime. I'm still a valuable teammate for checkers, and I do all the good voices when reading their favorite books [5]. "Your kids are great," my family and friends assure me, "and you're a great mom." But those words are just flattery unless I believe them, too.
When my oldest child — an always curious 6-year-old — saw my necklace, he read it out loud. "Best. Mom. Ever." Then he snickered and continued playing. A couple weeks later, he asked me why I wear it. "I like it," I said. "Do you agree with it?" "No," he said, "because sometimes we do bad things and you yell at us." I nodded, impressed with his honesty, and kissed him goodnight.
And he's right. I yell sometimes [7], frustrated over the little things. I can be grumpy every morning and snippy in the afternoons, and I question anyone's authority to speak to my parenting strategies [8]. I know that no matter how rightful and loving my motherly discipline is, it doesn't always come out in the calm manner I know it should.
No, when compared to many other moms, I would likely not win the title that my necklace boasts. Still, I wear it because I have three children whom I love. Three self-purchased red words hang over my heart and speak a truth that goes beyond opinion or anecdotes. This truth is something that may take years to develop, but something that seeps positivity into all the minutes I spend with my children.
I am my children's only mom, and therein lies a gift beyond any bronze chain, a gift that says no one else can validate nor eradicate what I know to be true. I am the best if I choose to take on the title.