It was a night filled with mixed emotions—Back-to-School night. As a teacher, I felt both anxious and thrilled. The classroom buzzed with excitement as new 4-year-old faces and their families arrived. One boy walked up to me with his mother, beaming. She introduced him: “This is Lucas.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucas! And who is this lovely person with you?” I asked, looking at his mother.
He raised an eyebrow and replied, “Just my mom.”
That phrase echoed in my mind long after I put my own daughter to bed: “Just my mom.”
As the school year unfolded, I grew to cherish Lucas and his classmates. Most of them were fortunate to have mothers who devoted themselves to being stay-at-home caregivers, actively participating in school activities. When Mother’s Day approached, I wanted to create something special for these caring moms. I discovered a delightful “About My Mom” questionnaire and sat down with each child to help them fill it out.
“What’s your mom’s name?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, what does your dad call her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does your mom work?”
“She doesn’t.”
“What does she do while you’re at school?”
One child said, “She cleans up my mess.” Another chimed in, “Buys me toys.” A third simply said, “Waits for me.”
“Waits for you? What do you mean?” I probed.
“She drops me off then waits for me to finish school and takes me home.”
“The whole time?” I pressed.
“Yes,” she insisted.
“Don’t you think she does other things too?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does she enjoy doing for fun?” I asked, feeling a surge of desperation.
“I don’t know what she likes.”
These conversations were all too common. Out of my entire class, only a few children could respond in a way that recognized their mothers as individuals with thoughts, feelings, and desires.
In my own life, I’m a mother, and in the classroom, I often take on a maternal role for 17 children. Sometimes, I feel like I’m merely a set of hands: “Can you open this?” “Can you tie my shoe?” “Can I have more water?” I strive to assert my identity beyond “the teacher.” During share time, I enjoy recounting personal stories, relishing the surprised looks on my students’ faces when they realize I don’t live at the school.
It’s no revelation that children are inherently self-centered. Every educator learns Jean Piaget’s theory of cognitive development, recognizing that young minds are still learning and can’t be judged harshly. However, listening to their responses, I felt the weight of a mother’s daily challenges. We often go unappreciated, and our sacrifices may go unnoticed. Children may perceive us as existing solely to meet their needs, and while they may not articulate it, their actions speak volumes.
A mother’s presence can become so omnipresent that it fades into the background. What we do and who we are often remains invisible to our children. Mothering is demanding work that frequently goes unrecognized. Yet, we willingly prioritize our children’s emotional needs over our own and set our egos aside.
Love is indeed a sacrifice. Your children love you deeply, and they must see and understand you. You deserve recognition. Take the time to share your identity with them, even if it feels like they aren’t interested. You matter. You may feel overlooked, but I acknowledge you.
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Summary
Mothers often feel invisible in their roles, sacrificing their own identities for the sake of their children. Despite the overwhelming demands of motherhood, it is essential to recognize and share who you are with your kids. You deserve to be seen and valued.