Here it is again — Mother’s Day. A mother myself now for the third time, seven years in total. My own mother, the primal mother, already passed, never got to enjoy her own grandchildren — the children of her eldest daughter, her second child, once a foetus, then a baby, a child, and now a mother herself.
Motherhood is a craft all its own. You “apply” for it just like every other mama, every other parent looking for parenthood. Sadly, it isn’t given to everyone. Which is exactly why, when it is given to you, you should truly cherish your children. That’s what I try to do — what my mother tried to do, and what her mother tried before her, generation after generation. Which mother doesn’t do her best? I believe we all do, each in our own way.
What mistakes can a mother make that people consider unacceptable? Smoking during pregnancy or around the baby? Fighting? Too much candy? The list goes on — there’s always room to do better. When do you know you’re doing your best? That’s a question every parent can only answer for themselves today. I can’t answer it for you — only for myself, and one day my children will answer it for me.
No answer yet? That’s fine — eventually your children will let you know, one way or another, what they experienced with you. Whether the memories they hold of you as a parent are good ones.
What are my own memories of my mother? I can tell you today what she meant to me. Sadly I can no longer tell her, but I hope somehow she still knows. She was always there. I remember her standing at the school gate every break with a cup of tea and a sandwich, and how I would run straight to her. That was one of the happiest moments I shared with my mama back in Zimbabwe.
What else did I learn from her? She was a seamstress, and I would sell what she made out on the street; sometimes she’d send me to deliver something to a customer, usually in the big city. But every school holiday we went to the countryside, where I learned so much. My mother always rose early and got straight to work, so that by sunrise there was already a cup of tea ready and the maize bread baked. She always sang little songs and told her own made-up stories, which I believed every time. One thing is proven beyond doubt: what you learn from your mother, you never forget. That’s also where the idea for BabyCarryWorkout was born.
How much she knew — about nature, vegetables, fabrics, knitting, you name it. Sadly she’s no longer here, I can’t ask her anything anymore, I only have memories. And those, I cherish.
