There’s a saying in the South that goes, “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” I was raised on this aphorism and felt it acutely around special occasions such as Christmas, Mom’s birthday, and, of course, Mother’s Day.
Growing up, it was always interesting to me that the same amount of fastidiousness wasn’t applied to Dad’s birthday or to Father’s Day. As a boy, this seemed demonstrably unfair, but as I’ve gotten older and entered the ranks of parents, I think I understand why the disparity exists. I think it has to do with our need for a protection that is both intimate and nurturing.
Now, right off the bat, I can hear the internet criticizing this opinion. “Men can be just as intimate as women,” the web might say. Or “This opinion of yours that mothers are more nurturing than fathers is sexist.” And I am sure there are millions of counter-examples to refute everything I’m going to write.
But, I’m going to ask the postmodernists and the Gender Studies majors to forebear for just this one article and see if some of it doesn’t ring true. Perhaps an example is in order to most clearly communicate my point.
When my children were smaller, my wife and I tucked them in every night. We read them stories, then sang a song or two, and ended the night with these words: “Spakoyna nothye. Ya tebya lyublu. Goodnight, I love you.” (Our children are from Russia).
I felt equally nurturing to my wife in these moments and as committed to these intimate moments as anyone could be. And I think my children connected with me during those moments. I’m certain of it.
But I think they may have connected, if not more strongly, then differently, with my wife, and I’ll tell you why. These days, my kids have long since outgrown the desire to be tucked in. They don’t even really want us to acknowledge them in public (adolescence is really a fun time), but every so often…every once in a great while when they’ve had a rough day at school or they’re feeling a bit overwhelmed, they ask their mother to tuck them in. Never me. Always my wife. And I’m not the least bit offended by it. I get it.
It’s like this: If they came to me after a hard day or were feeling kind of blue, I’d look for some solution to their problem. I’m a software engineer, after all, and debugging systems, sussing out problems, and providing solutions is what I do every day. But not every problem wants to be solved. Some problems want to be listened to. Some problems want to be hugged. Some problems want to be told that they are normal and that everything will be okay in the morning. And this is what my wife understands.
She knows how to empathize on a deep level with our kids, how to support without mandating a course of action, how to shield them, if only for a moment, from the pains of the day.
And she’s not the only one with this ability. My mom is the same way. Even now, when I’m squarely in the middle part of my life, I sometimes crave to be tucked in. Not literally, of course, but, nevertheless, in a very real way. Life is hard. It beats me up every now and then, and when it does, it’s nice to be able to call someone who remembers what songs they sang to me when I skinned my knee. It’s good to hear those tunes again. At the very least, it’s good to know that there exists someone on the planet who has known me since I was a little boy and, after all that time, still wants to take my phone call.
It’s interesting that, when I talk to my dad during life’s hard moments, he doesn’t sing me tunes or remind me of the time that I got upset over nothing. He generally shrugs and tells me that nobody ever promised life would be easy. And I need to hear that, too. There’s virtue in bucking up and putting on one’s big boy underwear. But I need those tuck-ins.
As I’ve gotten older, I think I understand a little more about how mothers are able to make a lot of things better without really saying a lot, and my current belief is that mothers, on some spiritual level, can protect their children from evil. I really believe that. And, the Western tradition is strewn with such examples.
There is Gaia hiding Zeus from Chronos, Jochebed hiding Moses from Pharoah, and Mary fleeing from Herod with Jesus. This protection isn’t anything that’s necessarily permanent. After all, Zeus had to eventually fight Chronos, Moses eventually had to stand up to Pharoah, and Jesus was eventually killed by the Romans, but I submit it was that early protection, those early experiences of a mother’s love, that allowed these people to take the stands that eventually defined them.
Motherhood is a noble calling – perhaps the noblest because of how much depends on it. So I’m excited to celebrate with my mom and my wife and all the other mothers out there on their very special day.
Happy Mother’s Day, everyone! Thanks for the tuck-ins!