The mother of all columns

I don't think there's a harder job in the known universe than 'mother.' It takes no experience, but it dominates every aspect of your life, in many cases eclipsing any previous sense of self you once had.

My daughter's escapades have made me appreciate why human beings can't consciously remember a whole lot before the ages of three. I think that's just nature's way of letting us off the figurative hook, because if we knew what sacrifices our parents made in the early years of our lives, we'd forever be crippled by guilt and wouldn't be able to properly develop as people because of the tremendous debt we would feel for our parents.

At least, that's how I choose to see things.

And that theory – bogus or not ¬¬¬– has also given me a whole lot more appreciation for what I put my own mother through growing up. I called her up and asked her if I was as difficult as my daughter is with her own parents.

"Oh, goodness, no," she laughed into the phone, all the way from Canmore, Alberta.

"You were much worse."

With that in mind, I hereby propose a Mother's Day toast that hopefully, will remind my mom that she still matters to me, no matter how far away she is or how often we talk on the phone.

"You never call," she complains.

I know, mom.

So with the once-a-year reminder that mothers – and their all-encompassing love and infinite patience – are not to be taken for granted, I propose an ode to mothers everywhere, and to mine in particular.

Here's to the women that wiped our noses just right, the ones whose hugs always felt just right, and who cut the crusts of your sandwiches, you know, just right. The women who taught us what we needed to know about, well, just about everything. The women who gave us life, and who made it worth living again after letdowns of the worst kinds. The women that taught us that how not to be afraid, who allowed us to trust and smile, who kept us safe and warm – the women who held our hand all through the first day of kindergarten and the women who made our dinners, satisfied our every need and allowed us to grow and flourish in a safe place. You taught us good judgment, right from wrong and forgiveness the same time as you bandaged our cuts cleaned our scrapes and picked us up at school when we were sick or cut our finger in the wood shop. The woman who helped us learn to love ourselves, and others for who they were, and not for what they had or looked like. You taught us the value of hard work, and even today, your lessons resonate.

We often got mad at you, but of all people in the world, yours was the opinion we valued the highest. You knew us best, and you were there for us, come what may. You are too often taken for granted, but understand that when your kids have kids of their own, they come to appreciate your fine work more so than they ever had before. I know I did.

So for Mother's Day, I urge moms everywhere to take a load off, relax, let the kids take care of you and relax, if only for a few minutes. Whether your kids are old or young, grown and gone or tiny and helpless, enjoy it for as long as you can.

'Cause come Monday, you're back on duty.