Just a week ago was Mother’s Day, and as you can imagine, it’s not necessarily the best day around our house. Each year brings bittersweet emotions: memories both good and bad, phone calls to wish the grandmothers a happy day, and a church service that welcomes and praises all the mothers present.
And what becomes most glaring each year is that I’m NOT a mom. And I really shouldn’t try to be one.
There are a lot of things I can (and have) pretended to be throughout my life, usually regretting it later. And at times, I might have even tried to pull off the Mom roll. But I shouldn’t
Besides the fact that I don’t look good in a dress, there’s an even bigger reason I shouldn’t pretend. Quite simply, I really don’t know how to be one.
Sure, I can apply a band-aid when the driveway proves tougher than my son’s knee. I can follow the step-by-steps of various recipes, stick the concoction in the oven, and a little later pull out something that sort of resembles the picture from the cookbook.
I can buy groceries, clean house, and sometimes even figure out where I’m going on long distance trips (of course, with the GPS system, even MEN can often find where they’re going without getting lost, right?).
But I can’t fake the nuances. I can’t read a book and learn to provide all the little things a mom can provide.
I can give my kids hugs, but they’re a dad’s hugs. I can give them a gentle pat, but it’s not as gentle as that of a mom. I can provide insight and advice from my perspective, but I’ll never be able to provide the perspective of a mom.
No, I’ll never be a mom. In fact, I find it hard enough Just being a dad without taking on a role I can never fill.