Motherhood Defined


Motherhood is knowing how to love your child. My secret is shapeshift parenting tailored to each one, that allows them to feel loved for who they are.

I’m in the throes of raising two teenage boys, taller than me, yet still my babies. In their now defined, shaven faces, I catch glimpses of their younger selves. My older son, Grant, nearly sixteen, was a runner out of the womb. I was the exhausted mom driving my two-year-old around until he fell asleep. He’s still all legs. Legs that used to flap as I lifted his sleep-filled body en route to his big boy bed, legs that have carried him through adolescence, legs that will walk him through adulthood. Grant stands tall at 5’ 10”. He’s a budding man, shy and polite, the type you take home to mother. His 5th grade teacher said Grant was the “kindest child she’d taught in 30 years.” Not always to his brother, but it’s still a story I’ll recount at his rehearsal dinner.

My tender side emerges when mothering Grant. I initiate hugs after school and he willingly reciprocates, his lanky body curving until our heads touch. No words are exchanged as he is a man of few. I found mind reading a challenge and soon learned not to ask Grant yes and no questions, but rather linger in his presence and wait for stories to spill out. I’ve been known to watch ESPN just to find out about his day. He seldom asks for homework help, but requested I review a video he’d made about tolerance of those with mental disabilities. I was bowled over by the insight — his deep narrator’s voice, advocating acceptance over exclusion. Grant spoke of notions I’d instilled a decade before. My mommy rules had stuck, absorbed in his early psyche and called forth for this high school project. Grant had heard me — on the playground, in the kitchen and at bedtime when parenting messages are lovingly reinforced. With Grant, I am my most gentle self — affirming and peaceful. Quietly, I mold to his needs.

My younger son, Cameron, calls for the very opposite. He thrives on fun. With him, I’m the cool mom who laughs about Saturday Night Live and drives a car load of boys to the movies, then hosts sleepovers for five. Junk food included. Cameron is chatty and energy-laden, bursting through the door with tales of middle school shenanigans.

“Mom, we decided at school — all my friends are coming over after the Social. You’re picking us up,” said Cameron, an event planner in the making.

His family nickname is “the mayor.” He requires my full-on attention and loves a captive audience. With Cameron I am always on, ever-engaging and present to him. There are times I’d prefer quiet, but know he is buoyed by lively interaction. Cameron demands my playful self and I oblige. He is also the child, who at 8:00 Sunday night, mentions a science project that’s due Monday, prompting a frenzied trip to CVS for poster board.

Cameron, too, has a way with adults — we joke he was born a 45-year-old man. He speaks of movies and menus, local news and weather with many a friend’s parent. And they relish it. I’ve gotten a range of comments from both mothers and fathers, applauding his quick wit and adult demeanor. He is confident. Maybe it was my backing — and filming — of his early Star Wars Legos sagas that encouraged Cameron’s boyhood imagination. Maybe it was my listening to his backseat celebrity impressions instead of my station’s Top 40 Countdown. Or just maybe it was buying that life size Karaoke Santa at his begging, whose microphone he used to hone a talent show stand-up routine. No matter the mothering tactic, I knew Cameron loved to showboat and I let him. In his Two’s nursery school class, I volunteered for picture day. I was the mom wiping faces and combing hair. When lining up the children, I noticed Cameron was the smallest. I mentioned this to his teacher who quickly said, “Only in stature!” My work with him had begun to blossom.

So motherhood is many things. It’s a kaleidoscope of perceptive personas who meet your child where they’re at. It calls for flexibility and patience; it calls for selflessness. Early years may require middle-of-the-night stamina to rock and sing lullabies to a colicky newborn. Or perhaps, to finger paint with your pre-schooler on a rainy day. Later on, we may morph into a therapist or spin master, when our tween has a brush with betrayal. Even later, we may act as a haven for the anxious high schooler, awaiting college acceptance.

“You’ll be a good mother because you had one,” my father told me while pregnant with Grant.

I’m fortunate to have my mother, who still parents me the way I need her to. She gets it. Motherhood is an enduring race where you are replenished by love’s electrolytes and your children are the winners. As I parent our boys, I not only hear my late father’s words, I own them.


The Scary Mommy Community is built on support. If your comment doesn't add to the conversation in a positive or constructive way, please rethink submitting it. Basically? Don't be a dick, please.

  1. katrina says

    I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love your articles. Sometimes I feel that you are writing just to me about what I’m thinking. I love the quote from your dad. I never thought about it that way before but it is very true :)

    Show Replies
  2. says

    I myself have 3 boys, 8, 5, and 18 months! 3 completely different little men! I loved this article as that is exactly how I feel, a different mom with each and an auntie of 5 that I’m very close with! I live the variety of interactions I get with all of the kids, especially my own and can’t wait to see how they all continue to grow and mature!!

    Show Replies
  3. says

    Love this! I’m a new mother of two, my almost 3 year old and my 6 week old. The baby hasn’t shown me much of what she needs beyond diapers, milk, and cuddles, but I know she’ll be her own unique little person, different than her sister.

    Show Replies
  4. says

    I loved your article. I am a mom of 2 boys and am in need of your help. I don’t know what to do with my older son’s jealousy. he keeps on throwing tantrums and it is getting on my nerves. what shall i do?

    Show Replies
    • Heather says

      Hi, I don’t have any advice, but I wanted you to at least know you are not alone. I also have two boys, the youngest has just turned one, oldest is about to turn four. I guess the tantrums have lessened these days, but they are slowly being replaced by backchat and defiance, which brings its own challenges. So I can understand the stresses you feel at the moment. We will get there! X

      Show Replies
  5. says

    Beautiful. I was rather touched by the thought that, “you will be a good mother because you had a mother”. My mom died when I was 9 and my father never remarried, so I definitely missed (and still do) a mother figure in my life. I actually started “mothering” others – as the neighborhood babysitter – soon after my mother died. Perhaps it was my way of connecting to my own mother. And thus began a lifetime of working with children – as a babysitter, nanny, a teacher. And now that I have two of my own children, I feel connected to her even more, especially with the recent birth of my daughter. I can finally once again experience the mother-daughter bond. I hope I can be the type of mother I remember her to be. We mothers are so vitally important to our children, my mother was and will always be my angel :) I know that is not what your articls was largely about, but as a writer I know you aim to share, to connect, to move others through your writing, and although I found your whole messge touching, I was particularly moved by the end. Thank you.

    Show Replies

Load More Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>