My best friend sent me a link to this really beautiful advertisement; which left me feeling all mushy inside. After the sentiment wore off, the advert forced me to ask some critical questions about my own childhood and parenting experiences…
I was startled at how well the children in this advertisement knew their mothers. For some of the children it took some effort…but I was really touched by the little boy who walked past every woman who was not his mother, with great speed and certainty…he barely even touched the others.
As I watched this video clip, I hoped that in a similar situation, my son would be as certain. I wanted the assurance that he would know and pick me in a room full of awesome mothers; that he would only be drawn to me, his awesome mom.
I dont know if it was my pride at play or if it was the trickling guilt that came with another realisation…
I don’t think I would know my mom in a blindfolded line up… Somehow it made me feel like I was implying that she was a bad parent.
How, you ask? Well if all the awesome moms are known and picked by their children, then it would be safe to imply that the not so awesome ones aren’t known or even picked. Seemed like a rather simple deduction. Simple, yet flawed. But simple nonetheless.
But, alas, with all its simplicity it was wrong. What makes a child recognise his or her parent in a blindfolded line up is not sentiment. It’s not even all the mushy-feel-good things that mothers are continually doing for their children. It’s more than that. It’s about a bond that is built over time. A bond that is founded on many experiences, both good and bad. Like a tapestry, the relationship between mother and child is woven in textures, in colours and in shapes.
My son will pick me because I have been there, because I am present mom and as flawed as I am, he would know the scents of my blood, sweat and tears…even when they are masked by my favourite perfumes. He will remember the coarseness of my hands from all the hand holding, during our long walks, as we cross the busy streets of our lives. And as he cups my face with his tiny little hands, he will know every wrinkle, dimple and curve from the many hours he has stared at me from his pram, trolley and car seat. He will know me and pick me because our connection and journey are reflective of our unique tapestry.
Take it from me mom, you are unique. Your child will pick you in a blindfolded line up. Your love and time and effort are enough. You are enough.