It's a bird, it's a plane...

Nope. It's a mom.
She can fly, she can swoop, she can clean the dishes while tying a loop.
(this, my friends, is why I gave up on poetry)
OK, so I was not a fan of Mother's Day for a long long time. It only served to remind me about the things I did not have. I had certain things in mind about what Mother's should be. In the motherhood lot, I did not get my wish.
It's no secret that my Mom did not stick around. It's a hard thing to deal with the person who manufactured you not wanting you. Or not wanting to be with you enough to fight for you. The commercials around Mother's Day would make me scornful and envious, everyone else's mother cares, and yet....not me.

Now, that I'm older and I have a slightly more clear view of things, I adore Mother's Day.
I always wanted to be a Mother. A mother and an underwear model.
At least I'm a mother. Not only that, but I can appreciate My Mom for who she is, not for what she isn't. I can appreciate my stepmother for opening up the world to me.
My Mamaw for unwavering prayer, and constant support.
My Grandma for the show tunes and killer use of red lipstick.

And I know that Mother's Day is not just for women who gave birth.
It's for the aunts and sisters who read bed time stories and give good advice and love with all their heart.
It's for your friends who are fighting the same three a.m. fights you are and love you even though you have bloodshot eyes and a short temper.
For the network of women who will not judge you when you're fighting your two year old over a sucker, but instead give you a sympathetic smile and a wink.
Mother's Day is for your children to celebrate all you mean to them.
It's for your husband, who made you a Mommy.
For your Dad, who loved you and made you strong enough and smart enough to parent in your own right.

To everyone who has at some point been called Mommy, Happy Mother's Day.
To everyone who hasn't, the same.