I like how Mother’s Day comes just before the end of school.
It’s like a little shot in the arm, a little dose of appreciation, before we transition into summer. For many moms, summer basically means 24/7 responsibility for kids.
When my kids were little, this meant the looming thought of hours to fill without school and routine, but also camp sign-ups and travel plans somewhere cooler to provide a break from the Texas heat. It also meant making a sanity plan for myself. This consisted of bribing my brother to come over at the crack of dawn so I could run in the dark before the kids were up and it was 100 degrees outside.
Summer with teenagers can be even more daunting. They don’t need babysitters but God knows you cannot leave them home alone for too long. And they have to get a job—because otherwise they sleep half the day, play video games, watch tv, eat every single thing in the house, sneak beer, and ask for money.
The best part of my Mother’s Day was receiving books of letters from my daughters. I stayed up late by myself and read them, tears plopping onto the pages. Luke, a man of fewer words, gave me a sweet card, a candle, and some Epsom salts for my bath. He knows me—this runner girl loves her baths.
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My father and my kids cooked dinner for all of us. It was a rare treat to be served a meal instead of serving it.
But then there was a surprise part of my Mother’s Day—an unexpected delight the morning after. My kids had the day off from school on Monday, and Grace asked me if I wanted to run before we went to the gym together. Grace runs on her own, usually with headphones in our neighborhood or on the treadmill at the gym. We rarely ever run together anymore.
Really, you want to run with me? I thought. I could hardly contain my glee, but I tried to be cool about it. I figured if she knew how excited I was, she might change her mind. So I murmured: “Yeah, sure, I can do that.” Inside, I was flipping out!
We went to the lake to run along the trail. She has her permit so she drove (and had to parallel park: Gulp!) When she didn’t put her headphones on, I tried to contain myself and be cool, but I’ve been told that I’m not that cool when I’m excited about something.
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Grace is taller than me—probably five foot nine, with long legs. Her stride is longer than mine, and her pace is faster. I had no idea!
I had to chug along to keep up. I admitted this fact on the final stretch, when it felt like she was picking up speed—or else I was simply losing steam. This made her laugh.
She is so beautiful when she laughs. She has a gorgeous smile and one dimple that turns into a cavern of cuteness when she is amused. It was weird to run next to my 15 year-old-daughter who looks old enough to be a younger friend.
You don’t really notice your daughter becoming a woman in increments; you just see it one day and do a double take. It takes your breath away. Especially when you can’t breathe.
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I had a flash of understanding mid run about what it will one day be like to be her friend, when I can loosen my role as her mother, when I can stop raising her all the time and simply enjoy her company. We had the kind of conversation you have with friends on a run. The kind where topics flow and walls come down while you move and breathe and look straight ahead instead of straight at each other.
For a stretch of time, we could transcend the push-pull between us. We could take a break from the unspoken conflicts of growing up, where children have to pull away from their moms and moms want to hold their children close a little longer.
Those three miles were a gift from God to me for Mother’s Day. It was a wink from above letting me know that even though things are moody and messy these days—we are doing something right. There is nothing like being chosen by your teenager—to spend time together, to be outside on a pretty morning, to do something you both enjoy.
It was a gift of Grace.
Kristin Armstrong is a mother, a writer, and a runner. She has written six books, including her latest, Can Hot Baths Make You Faster.
