On kindness, teachers, fur moms and all the women who mother without a title
I had a wonderful Mother’s Day with Bill and the dogs saw. The morning was slow and quiet, a cup of chocolate, a few chapters of my latest read. Patches curled against my leg on the chair. Followed by mass, lunch with family and an hour at the pool. And then I made the mistake of going on the internet.
A friend of mine, a woman I have known and admired for a long time, wished everyone a happy Mother’s Day, including fur moms. Which is exactly the sort of warm thing she would do, because she is exactly that sort of person. One person did not appreciate it. And decided to say so, at length, on Mother’s Day.
What the commenter did not know but also did not bother to find out, is that my friend has been a teacher for over twenty-five years. She has wiped noses and dried tears and stayed late and known which child did not have lunch and quietly made sure they had one. After her father passed, her mother moved in with her, and my friend cared for her in every way until she passed too. She has also had eleven dogs over the years, nine dachshunds and two mixed breeds, most of them shelter dogs, old dogs, dogs with histories and issues that made them hard to place. She wanted them. All of them. And she gave them a wonderful life.
None of that was mentioned in the comment. The commenter may not have known that or perhaps she did not care. She had her own opinion of motherhood and wanted to be sure that we all knew it.
I do not have children. I never felt the pull toward motherhood, and by the time I met Bill, who is eleven years older than me and already had two children, it confirmed what I had already known about myself. My younger sister does not have children either. Her fiancé died of an aneurysm, suddenly, and she never fully moved on from that loss. What I can say is that she is one of the most devoted people I know, to elderly friends, to the children of other friends, to every stray animal that finds its way to her door. We are both nurturers. We have always been nurturers. That is not something that switches on only when you have a child.
I have a friend who teaches in East Tennessee. On Friday afternoons, some of her students cry as they hug her and walk out the door, not because anything bad has happened at school, but because they do not want to go home. They do not know where their next meal is coming from, whether anyone will be there when they arrive home or sadly even be there to make sure they are ok for those two days. My friend is the one who tells them they matter. Every single day she can.
The women who tried to have children and couldn’t. The women who lost someone before they had the chance. The women who pour everything into students, patients, nieces, nephews, the dog no one else would take. I have been thinking about all of them and I am grateful for every single one.
You do not know the shape of someone else’s love, or what it has cost them, or what it looks like when no one is watching. Wish a fur mom a happy Mother’s Day or just acknowledge them and what they do. Or scroll past. But let’s be kind out there the world is tough enough as it is.
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What I’m Reading
After writing about my love of books I decided to revisit some of my favorites, starting with Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters. Amelia Peabody is one of my favorite fictional women — a Victorian-era Egyptologist, a self-proclaimed spinster and heiress, unrattled by anyone, including mummies. She sets off to Egypt with self-confidence, a journal and a sturdy umbrella, rescues a young woman who has been abandoned by a scoundrel, and the two of them make their way up the Nile to an archaeological site where things go awry.. This is the first in a series of twenty books and if you have never met Amelia, now is the time.
What I Watched
On Homeworthy this week, a Georgian-style home in the English countryside by interior designer Camilla Hampton. A new build, though you would never know it. She layered in patina, antiques and a beautiful mix of fabrics and art. If you love the English countryside aesthetic as much as I do you will not want to miss this one.
Outfit of the Day
I love everything about this dress, the blue and matcha colors, the print and of course the classic shirt dress silhouette. All you need is a pair of sandals, your favorite jewelry, a bag and a spritz of perfume. You could dress it down if you wanted as well.
Click below to see outfit separates
If you missed it, I joined Kim and Juliet for Weekend Meanderings on Saturday, come say hello and see what they have been up to.
Is there a woman in your life who has mothered you in a way that had nothing to do with biology? I would love to hear about her in the comments.
If you enjoyed this post, I would love it if you shared it. You can find me on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterestand X — I would love to have you along.
Have a wonderful weekend, friends.
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Imagine feeling so superior that you don’t have empathy for other types of mothers. I’m am stunned someone would say something derogatory over a post like that. Mother’s Day, a made up holiday, can be quite painful for some. My mom died when I was 38 of a brain tumor. I never had children either. I’ve always had cats and they are my furkids and bring me great joy. I taught for over 28 years and I feel my students were those who I mothered at times. There is much more to mothering than giving birth. Our pastor gave the most gracious poem last year on Mother’s Day that I had her send it to me so I could read it each year. She included all types of mothers and mothering…because she knows and has empathy. I’m glad you had a lovely day Elizabeth.
Nanci, thank you for sharing your thoughts and story. It’s nice to meet a fellow fur mom. What are the names of your cats? I hope that you had a wonderful Mother’s Day.
I used to think it was the anonymity of the internet that led people to act like that but unfortunately people have been mean, nasty, unkind and thoughtless for time immortal. At the funeral of my uncle, he died when he was just a boy, a friend came up to my grandmother and said, “I don’t know why you are crying, you have 9 other children.” It goes without saying that my grandmother never spoke another word to her.
Twenty-eight years devoted to teaching not just subjects I am sure by life skills, compassion and so much more I am sure. You are a special person, I can tell. It takes a dedicated, kind, compassionate, person of many skills and hats to show up every day to a classroom of children from all walks of life and all different personalities and learning abilities. I could never do it, I do not have the patience. Teachers are saints, or at least most of them are. They take young people and give them the tools and knowledge to go out into the world and hopefully make a difference, skills that cannot be learned in a book.
I think most of us have a teacher that we remember, one that went the extra mile to understand us and to help us. And to them we are forever grateful. You probably have taught and nurtured many.
I am sorry for the loss of your mother.
Thank you again for sharing your thoughts, have a lovely week.