“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy.” My three-year-old looked up at me, smiling wide. “Oh!” her eyes popped, “No, I mean, Happy Muzzah’s Day!” She giggled, and my heart swelled.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I crouched on my heels, cupped her chin and brushed my thumb across her cheek. Had this been May 12, her remarks would’ve been sweet enough. But Mother’s Day was still a week away, so I chuckled.
Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day. . . eh, who’s counting? In my daughter’s mind, the sentiment was clear. Both holidays celebrate love.
And I am the first love of her life.
So Monday through Sunday last week—about twenty random times a day—my little one chirped, “Happy Muzzah’s Day!” or sometimes “Happy Valentine’s Day!” And her words puffed up my soul.
Because why shouldn’t every day be Mother’s Day? After all, parenting isn’t an isolated Hallmark event. It’s an everyday adventure.
So when should a mother’s credit be due?
In the hour a wrinkled baby is born beautiful into this world.
Someday when that baby holds her own sweet baby swaddled in her arms.
That is Mother’s Day.
It’s not something we do once a year. It’s a lifetime of who we are.
“Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate,” (Proverbs 31: 28–31).
So although the calendar says Mother’s Day has come and gone, I know better. Because today, I get to do it all over again.
I get to be a mom.
And so do you.
Happy Muzzah’s Day!