Kindnesses

Small Kindnesses
Danusha Laméris

I've been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say "bless you"
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. "Don't die," we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don't want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here,
have my seat," "Go ahead—you first," "I like your hat."

I have been thinking about all the superlatives we like to use on Mother's Day. In fact, superlatives seem to be such a core of American cultural expression. I found these in no time on actual Mother's Day cards online: the best mother ever; celebrating the most amazing mother you are; I am the luckiest son (or daughter) in the world; thank you for making our home the happiest place to grow up.

Of course, motherhood has taught me all about the sacrifice involved and how some of us (on some days, in particular) do the job far worse than others. I just think we have a tendency to glorify parenthood, when in reality there isn't anything of great value in life that doesn't require a tremendous amount of work and sacrifice -- parenthood is simply one of those things that many but not all of us choose to do. Many people laudably choose to "parent" a cause or endeavor instead of or on top of parenting children.

The outcome of such superlative language around mothering and fathering makes us view the task as heroic or exceptional or mythical. In reality, parenting is far more about the everyday, putting in the hours on a consistent daily basis as if we were working to play professional basketball or gain fluency in a foreign language or make a discovery or create a masterpiece -- 10,000 hours to master a skill. The only difference is that the 10,000 hours are focused on nurturing another human being.

Instead of shooting the ball or conjugating the verbs or crunching the data or stroking the brush, mothering is about showing up and performing an infinite number of kindnesses, acts performed solely for the care and well being of another. Think of the diaper changes and hours of rocking, the meals prepared and fed one spoonful at a time, the books read over and over and over again. Or, the words of reassurance or encouragement or expectations or insight. The holding of a hand, the hand to the forehead, the hand rubbing suntan lotion. All the times you brushed hair, washed clothes, wrapped gifts, planned outings, said "no" even though saying "yes" would have been easier and happier all the way around. I could go on and on.

As someone whose own mother decided that she just didn't have it in her to show up anymore when I was five, I know how very average yet incredibly invaluable the act of showing up as a parent can be. Being present and paying attention and giving of yourself in the smallest and most important ways has never been more exhausting than now when our village for raising a child has shrunk tremendously overnight. Yet, let's not glorify it and raise the bar so high for some imaginary perfection such that we break the parenting spirit. Let's be kind and forgiving to one another and ourselves, let's be kind and forgiving to our children, let's all remember that life's kindnesses are transformative and revolutionary acts -- more than enough for a very happy Mother's Day.