I spent this Mother’s Day with my sister, our kiddos, and our good friend Andrea––eating, drinking, and talking about life, birth, mothers and daughters, and how motherhood has or hasn’t been what we thought it would be.
My sister said it best when she said that she knew motherhood would be hard and wonderful. But never did she have any idea how high and wide that pendulum would swing. How great the great would be and how truly low the hard times can feel. Not to mention, you can literally feel them both in a matter of seconds. A pure, highly intense meltdown can quickly turn into a tender moment in the blink of an eye. Mother’s whiplash.
It is always an interesting thing to try to do: describe what being a mother is like.
And it is honestly so annoying that cliche phrases like “you don’t know until you have kids” become actual real life things you say––out loud––to other people. And then roll your eyes while you do, cause, it sounds so meaningless.
There is no other relationship as intimate as the one between a mother and child. This has been said by poets, writers, philosophers, teacher, parents, and spiritual leaders for the entirety of time. The reason things sound cliche is because they are said so often, and at times the meaning gets lost in the emptiness of the repetition.
But, I do know that there is no other relationship in my life that is as intimate and bonded as the one between me and my daughter.
At least for me.
The child is always less bonded. Just like I am less bonded to my own mother than I am to my daughter. It is a tragic, terrifying, incredibly sad lack of reciprocity that truly stamps the mother/child relationship with a cloud of — never enough. It is why mothers will write poems about their children like they are lovers, for the rest of time.
Is it biology that our children will never love us as much as we love them? Maybe. But the other thing I know is that it doesn’t, not even for one moment, make me not want to put in 10000% into that relationship every. damn. day.
Because even her uneven love is the best love I’ve ever had in my life.
To even it out a little, a cocktail always helps, amirite? Here’s my recipe for Momma’s Punch: perfect for a celebration, or a day you feel like a failure and need a bitter, herbaceous libation to soften the blows.
2 oz Aged Rum
1.5 oz Campari
.75 oz Shivelight Flathead Cherry Shrub
.75 oz Manuka honey, plum, strawberry and black pepper syrup*
Stir over ice.
Pour into a coup and tip with sparkling lemon water. Garnish with mint and fresh lime.
** To make the syrup: 2 parts honey, 1 part water. Add plum and strawberries, chopped up. Bring to boil and then let simmer for 10 minutes until fruit becomes very soft. Add 1 teaspoon black pepper and let cool. Refrigerate up to 2 weeks.