Passion

If you know me in real life, you know that I am an extremely passionate person.

I am passionate about love. I am passionate about art. I am passionate about goth music and crunchy snacks covered in orange dust.

Passion runs deep down through my bones.

Needless to say, I am particularly passionate about my kid. But it is one thing to feel it and another thing to talk about it. You hear yourself saying what you figured was always just a given. I knew in my brain and my heart, for example, if anyone harmed her, you may as well get the jail cell ready and dig the deepest, darkest pit to hide the key for all of eternity. However, saying that out loud has made me stop and go, “Whoa. I would totally be in jail.”

Honestly, it feels good. Like, really good.

Mothers get a lot of grief for making mistakes (god forbid) or acting differently than the archetypal (or rather unrealistic) idea of what a mother should be. Really, all a mother needs is that voice inside them that is so fiery and passionate about their children, the one that screams “I WOULD LITERALLY DO ANYTHING FOR YOU,” and they are already on their way to being amazing. And saying that out loud or being able to express that on paper (or a blog, perhaps…?) is the ultimate feeling that you are doing it right.

Forget the nuclear family, June Cleaver, the stay-at-home or even the 9-5, Monday through Friday moms. Not that they are any less. Just that they are not the only acceptable definition of a good mother. There really shouldn’t be any ONE, set definition of a mother. We are really human beings, after all.

There are things that make me a unique individual unto myself, aside from being Scarlett’s mother, and those things are important to recognize. As long as I know at the end of the day that I did everything I could that day to make Scarlett safe, comfortable, and happy, who cares if part of that was taking her for a stroll at 10pm? Or that I have expressed interest in showing her what tarot is because I have used whatever quiet time we have to really study the cards (another thing I am very passionate about)? She’s happy, right? I am keeping her safe, right? I am involving her in my life and interests just as much as I should be immersed in hers. I strike a balance. It keeps the cogs moving and the fire burning. It is that balance and that recognition that I am, in fact, a living, breathing human being with a very old soul and a thirst for new and exciting things in my life that fuels my passion.

I think if more people recognized that we, mothers, are just human beings with a different set of responsibilities, we would be cut a little more slack.

Do you get tempted by things? Do you ever feel like saying things and then a second later you regret them? Do you ever feel lonely? Meet people at bars? Wake up later than you wanted? Cry in public? Drink too much? Forget to go to church? Get up late for work? Forget an appointment? Cheat on a diet? Forget to work out?

You have?

Well, then you are, in fact, a human being. With flaws and stuff. And so are mothers.

My point is that as long as the mother has nothing but love and devotion to their child, it shouldn’t matter how many tattoos they have or if they are still with the child’s father or if they swear too much. It shouldn’t matter that they may not know how to cook or are working a job at McDonald’s (since it is thought by some that, unless they are a CEO, they should be home with the children rather than fulfill themselves by cashing their own pay check). How many boyfriends or girlfriends they have in their child’s lifetime is irrelevant and how many glasses of wine they drink after hours while trying to clean the day’s mess shouldn’t matter.

The only thing that should matter is this:

If the woman can sit there and say, in all honesty, that they would burn down cities, climb mountains, or reduce another human to bloodied flesh melting into the ground to protect their children, regardless of the consequences, then she is mother of the year, every year.

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