My mum once told me that young children regard their mothers as they would the Almighty God. I thought she was being a tad narcissistic at the time but since having my own child, I can see clearly that she made a good point.

Children love and adore their mothers. And they trust with all their little hearts that their mother’s will love them back.

They have absolute faith that a mother’s love is just as unconditional as a child’s.

So when Adoti, and I get into one of our fights and I stomp out of the room in a huff, leaving her wailing on the floor, limbs flailing, it is only a matter of time before she is peeking though the crack in the door, sniffling woefully and hoping that Mama will quit being mad.

At this point, being a battle-hardened adult, what Mama really wants to do is to hold on to the beef for just a while longer, but when Adoti walks towards me, arms raised in the air before saying, “Beba”, anything inside be that would be tempted to reject her is overwhelmed in the face of her unwavering trust in the purity of my spirit.

Mothers become more God-like because their children have the utmost faith in their goodness. It is hard to let your child down when you know just how much they trust you to be a person of excellence. They hold you to such a high standard and because they believe you can reach it — surpass it even — you live every day trying to be the best parent you can be.

For the most part, you are a shining example of motherhood, the very essence of an excellent parent. But sometimes, you fail. Many times, you fail miserably.

This past week, there has been a lot going on and looking back I have noticed that I have been brushing Adoti aside a lot.

Asking her to wait every time she has asked me to go somewhere or do something.

Constantly on my phone or my laptop. Coming home late at night to sleep and leaving early in the morning to work.

The full force of it hit me when I was waiting in line at the doctor’s office. I had my laptop out, typing furiously as if my very life depended on it, feeling like such an accomplished working mum.

Any minute I got, I was going to use it productively. No time like the present to get work done. Yadda yadda yadda.

FELT ASHAMED

After about an hour and a half, my name was called out and it took me about five minutes to put the computer back in the bag and stuff an assortment of stationary into the pockets.

When I finally entered the consultation room, I looked like a nutty professor, confused, dishevelled but oh, so accomplished. “Oh, my! Are you always this busy?” the doctor asked.

I stopped short. Out of the absolute blue, I felt ashamed. It was as if the Almighty Himself opened up the heavens and showered me with a sky full of shame.

And it struck me right there and then that I was always busy doing “busy work” when I really should have been focused on my daughter.

I had been so caught up in being a superwoman that I had forgotten that my most important job was being a mother to a child in whose mind, I occupied the same hallowed space as the creator of the universe.

Seconds later, I looked up at the doctor and said, “Sure does look like it, huh?” with a super sheepish look on my face. In that moment, I resolved to raise my child and not to just watch her grow.

As an unmarried mother, Adoti’s father and I are consciously co-parenting. Early on, we defined our parenting roles and we have been pretty religious about sticking to them.

Adoti knows that she has two parents who love her without reservation. And while I am her primary caregiver — as are many other mothers, whether married or not — my sassy lil’ miss is only as feisty and exuberant as she is because she is secure in the love she receives from both her parents.

And on that note, I wish Baba Adoti a happy Father’s Day. Thank you for this little gift of ours that just will not quit giving.