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As Mother’s Day approaches I feel reflective on my role as a mother. I have never identified myself as a mother, nor have I thought of myself as maternal. Why? Simply because I do not have my own kids. I take care of someone else’s kids I tell myself, therefore, I am not a mother.

Not having my own kids has always been what I can only describe as a great loss for me. Since I was nineteen I imagined having six boys, a happy marriage to a successful man and living in a big house. Throw in a white picket fence and you get the picture. It was an expectation of a non complex, simple life.

But life doesn’t always work out as planned.  I didn’t marry until I was 43 years old, which meant I worked all that time to support myself, and just by sheer application and time, I started to identify myself as a career woman. Over time, I became independent, capable and self sufficient out of survival and circumstance more than anything else.

I did wind up marrying a successful man and living in a big house, that part came true, and the house had a hedge not a fence, but it made me feel claustrophobic so we got rid of it. As for the rest of the fantasy, I never did have six, or even one child.

But if I daringly expand my definition of maternal beyond the biological birthing of eight pound creatures, there might be some room to at the very least own a small fraction of this identity. 

I did adopt a 6 week old puppy who was my family before I met my husband and his kids. I do have 10 year old twin part time roommates that have a need for food and comfort and nurturing. I adopted two kittens who seemed to need a good home. And my parents are aging and ironically adapting to their needs I think counts as mothering.

So it all got me thinking that maybe Maternal isn’t an adjective so much as a Verb. Maybe it is an action, or a series of actions that defines it. Maybe even the word Mother is a verb. You have to do it, take action and then you can justifiably say you are maternal or even a mother. I’ve decided if you cook for people, feed them, brush them, hug them, listen to them, take them to doctors (vets), tend to them in the middle of the night, give them treats, go for walks or bike rides, any bum wiping for sure counts, wash their dishes, their clothes, their blankets, speak in baby talk, bath them, watch them play, throw sticks or balls for them, buy them presents that these things all add up Mothering Verbs and justify the identity of Maternal. 

I also got to thinking that no one owes me a card or a bouquet of flowers just because I do these things;  it is a privilege to take care of beings that need taking care of. Somehow, I have found myself taking care of small twin boys, a dog, two cats, aging parents and  a husband (lets face it). It might not be the  naive fantasy of a nineteen year old girl, and it might not be a simple life, but it is my real life family and I am the Mother of it. Just because no one calls me mom, and society does not  recognize me as a mother, doesn’t mean I can’t claim the matriarchal status of this family.

And so as Mother’s Day is a few weeks away, I celebrate my Maternal side. I feel gratitude for the small bowls and big plates of food I produce every day, for the meows, the barks, the hugs, the stories, the sticks, the balls, the tears and giggles that all make up the fabric of my life. And no card or bouquet seems necessary.