Motherhood... hugs and bullets

Mother.... Mam... Mummy... Mum.. Ma.... Mom.... etc etc etc..
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So many ways to describe the holder of pain and the lover of small hearts and the keeper of secrets and the wearer of a shield that captures all and waits till the dark falls on a sleepless pillow, then shows itself in battle and dares you to fight back against the memories and laughter and tears and emotions that brought you to the battleground where a sleepless pillow and motherhood meet.
We go there regularly, us mothers... I know I do....

I'm six and my mother is standing in the kitchen wiping her floured hands on a shabby apron and she has decided she has nothing else to do today except end my social life and stop me going to a friends house for a sleepover... evil woman swinging a teatowel that might take my head off in a minute and then I'm dead..... Mother....

I'm twenty six and there is an almost 10 year old in my kitchen ( she's nine.. don't tell her I said that) with her hands on her hips crying in my face and I swear her left hip is carrying a collection of rapid bullets designed to wipe me out if I back down.... evil child swinging an attitude that might take my head off in a minute... Mother....

I'm six and fabulous... tiil she takes a brush to my hair and announces I'm riddled... diseased.... rabbied with head lice. She removes me to the bathroom and I realise I'm never gonna see daylight again... or people again
Maybe I'll die here..... Mother...

I'm twenty nine and there is seven year ninja warrior turtle type male kind of child at the end of my bed and I think he's a little demonic because he's crying that I've broken his Mario cart and I'm looking at him from one eye because the other one won't open... (Not able) And I'm thinking I can't even afford a car let alone the gold plated priceless Cart he's crying about.... Mother...

I'm nine and I've discovered that I'm an heir to the Dallas fortune.. I'm a Ewing and I've been somehow lost and ended up adopted by the McCormacks in Toome and my sisters are being amazing and helping me find myself.... till myself is covered in nail varnish make up and Mammy is screaming that I've broken the heel of a whinging sisters shoe practising my reunion with my real family.....Mother...

I'm nineteen and Daddy has just died and I'm lost again and my child continues to ask for him and it's my fault she can't find him and Mammy pulls her close and forgets her own pain to save mine and I don't realise because Daddy is gone and I've a child and I'm getting married and my life is over and she just holds her tight and her pain I can't see because I'm nineteen and foolish and acting like a child and she just lost her soulmate and she's holding her pain together and holding eight children while I think she's holding only me..... Mother....

I'm forty seven now and Mammy is gone and as much as I need her to hold me she can't yet I close my eyes and Jesus she's powerful coz she's here with me.... her head lying beside mine in a sleepless pillow.. her fingertips capturing tears that don't belong on that pillow.
Tears of happiness, of sadness, of life, of love and loss. Tears for Daddy. Tears for Jenny. Tears for my two amazing children finding themselves in a great world that has so far been kind to them. Tears for us longing for them. Tears for us smiling in family chat because they are adorably grabbing life in both hands. Tears of a husband missing his twin sister. Tears of mine, a woman who found herself forever belonging in a family that loved her for her. Tears that fall on that pillow and yet smiles because Mammy is weaving my tears into the most amazing capture that swamps my mind and my bones and I'm warm now and cosy in her arms even though the kids are too far away and she's too far away and now I know that being a mother is the greatest power anyone will ever have....

So many ways to describe that one simple word. Mother

Mary Anne Hoey McCormack
Thank you for being that mother

Valerie Masters
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