THE BIGGEST MOB HIT IN YEARS

family
Danielle Davies, Family Editor of The Boardwalk Journal
This Mother’s Day, A Wish For Us All
The first time I felt like a mother, really truly like a parent, didn’t
happen during my pregnancy, nor did it happen when I first laid
eyes upon my newborn son. Though through all of that I loved
him, and felt protective of him, the feeling that I was his mother
didn’t happen immediately. In fact, I can clearly remember leaving
the hospital with him and thinking, “My God, they’re letting us
drive away”.
It wasn’t until a few days later, when I was cleaning his infant
hands with a baby wipe, that it clicked—I was a mother. I was his
mother. This simple act of mothering, just wiping his hands, and
it was suddenly crystal
clear. Until then, there had
been the whole wide world
and me floating around it.
At that moment though,
everything changed.
This was my child. I was
a mother. And I would be
until the end of time.
I think that’s how it is
with moms. We become
them, and we stay that
way forever. Sure, there
Danielle Davies is a freelance writer
and blogger, and the voice behind
rubyandthemoon.com. A 1996 graduate
from Villanova University, where
she studied theater and philosophy,
Danielle worked for several years
at Jossey-Bass Publishers, A Wiley
Company, in San Francisco, before
returning to her native East Coast.
After earning a teaching certification
from Drexel University’s graduate
is longing for a simpler (and mostly less demanding) way of
life sometimes. And yes, many of us complain wildly about the
sacrifices we make as parents, from our lack of time to driving
minivans. But we wouldn’t change it, not really. We are forever
bound to our children, impacting their lives with each move we
make. Just as they impact ours. We will be their mothers long
after they need us to mother them. We will be their mothers,
sometimes, long after they’re gone.
In the past six months, our country has seen a shocking amount
of tragedy involving children. From the massacre at Sandy Hook
Elementary School to the accidental shooting of a six year old by
his four year old neighbor to the attack at the Boston Marathon
where eight year old Martin Richard was killed, it seems neverending.
It’s entirely possible that we’ve had this much senseless
violence before—I’m not basing this column on statistical data.
Instead, what keeps coming back to me is the age of the children.
old. This is what seven looks like at my house: missing teeth,
video games, potty humor, learning to tell time, to read, to better
play with friends. Seven is silly, exasperating, smart and amazing,
full of wonder but also with some new found street smarts. Seven
is a lot more sophisticated now than it was when I was a kid. It’s
playing with your little sister even when she’s driving you crazy. I
would wager seven is like this in a lot of homes.
Lately, though, we mothers in this nation have been forced to
think of seven another way—as bullets, destruction, and funerals.
As mothers, we’ve always known that fate can, and does, interfere
with the lives of our
program, Danielle spent two years
in Philadelphia classrooms before
moving her family to her hometown at
the Jersey Shore, where she happily
juggles many roles—writer, blogger,
editor, and artist—while raising
her family. Danielle is the longtime
copy editor of The Boardwalk Journal. She
welcomes comments and feedback at
www.rubyandthemoon.com.
children. There is disease.
There are accidents. There
are heart wrenching ways
we can lose our children—
and that’s hard enough to
stomach. Violence should
not be one of them.
By the time this
publication reaches the
hands of readers, we’ll be
right around the corner
from Mother’s Day, and
I just can’t help but think about these lost children, and their
equally lost mothers. Because how can you be a mom when your
child has been taken from you?
So I’m asking for something this Mother’s Day, and I don’t know
a mom who would mind if I ask for this on behalf of mother’s
everywhere: Please just stop. Stop the violence. Stop the fighting.
Stop the wars and the finger pointing and the name calling. Just
stop. We have had more than we can take. We will hug our babies,
and raise our children, and try so very hard to assure them that in
this world gone mad, there is still good.
You monsters out there: please, stop taking our children.
Perhaps I’m stuck on this because my own firstborn is seven years
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56 | The Boardwalk Journal | May 2013