And the winner is…

You’ve heard of the Oscars, Logies, Emmys, Tonys and Grammys.  All recognitions of outstanding performances and achievement in theatre, film and television.  The entertainment industry sure knows how to appreciate and honor a job well done.

Let’s imagine for a moment that there is a Mumsys. The domestic equivalent of a star-studded award ceremony to honour the often unsung heroes responsible for the stars themselves.

Is it enough that the recipients of those symbolic and coveted chunks of metal, wood and glass offer a perfunctory ‘…and I wanna thank my mom’ as they wave at the audience and saunter offstage?

I don’t think so.

The world wide web supplies a plethora of proof supplied by mommy-bloggers that mothers possess physical and psychic superpowers, bestowed upon them the moment they give birth. So there’s no need to go into the ‘eyes in the back of the head’ phenomenon, or the ‘miraculous marvel of multi-tasking’ – or even the ‘sensational sixth- sense super power’.

Mothers are real-life protagonists who zap and kapow their way through everyday life in pursuit of the most noble cause of all…getting shit done the best way they can.

Depending on what part of the globe you’re from, mothers can be mom, mum, mummy, mama, madre, maw or any moniker or nickname that offspring like to bestow. These handles can signify affection, irritation, sadness and worry, and a bevvy of other emotions depending on the inflexion or the situation.

For example, two of my children like to call me ‘Dorzie’ in the course of normal conversation. Cool, right? To me, quite societally acceptable, suggesting a casual, contemporary way to communicate, yet not overstepping the boundaries of love and respect.

But when they’re upset about something or need help sorting out a problem, it’s always ‘mumma’.

The so-called mommy superpowers come in very handy during the early years, but what about when children are no longer dependent? What happens when they detach from the mothership and go off in pursuit of careers of their own – maybe even becoming supermums themselves. Does it mean that mothers can hang up the sexy Gal Gadot getup and become a mere mortal again? Not a chance.

In the early years, a mother is the most important character in the soap- opera that is everyday life. The overwhelming power of a mother’s presence and influence is without doubt the foundation upon which a child bases his or her life. If mothers are doing their job well, children know nothing about the poop-encrusted, oatmeal infused, tantrum-tainted, manically hands-on active mothering days, because it just goes on in the background.

Her presence at sports events and music recitals, her organization of extracurricular activities, luxury holidays, and her procurement of the latest must-have on-trend designer items is taken quietly for granted. Support and encouragement for jobs well done is expected. Being a safety net for troubles and trip-ups is a given.

Her expertise in silently shaping little futures may seem to go unnoticed. But that’s not true. Sometimes even mothers themselves don’t realise that they are the constant in their children’s lives. They are the mortar that makes those lives solid.

Even once they begin lives of their own, there is no chance of respite for mothers, not even for a minute, because this is the longest running show in the history of the world, and it will never be cancelled. And, like all good soap-operas, nothing much will ever change, no matter how many years go by, or how many new characters may come and go. Plot is unimportant, location can vary, and bad acting is optional. Nothing really matters as long as the mother is always there.

So…on behalf of all mothers who unequivocally deserve their moment at the dais, I’d like to thank my four extraordinary children for making me the person that I have become. For reminding me that life would be utterly meaningless without you. Please accept my undying appreciation for putting up with a less-than-perfect lead character and for loving me anyway. As time dribbles through the hourglass, I might forget my lines more often, but I’ll always try to do my best.

Profound gratitude to my eldest for introducing me to the joy of motherhood for the first time, and 32 years later to the indescribably joy of grandmother-hood.

A huge hug for my super smart, determined and beautiful second-born, who has the courage of her convictions, and reminds me every day that there is such a thing as a chip off the old block.

A special mention to my darling only son, who fills my life with laughter and happiness and with whom I have never had a serious altercation in 28 years. All I can say is WTF?

And finally, to my youngest, the final act in this long-running show. Thank you for being so full of love, so strong, funny, utterly gorgeous and for always believing you can do anything you put your mind to.

If there were such a thing as an awards ceremony for mothers, I know what I’d like engraved on my lump of metal, wood or glass.

‘You done okay Dorzie’.

 

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