More and more since I’ve become a mother I’ve read blogs, and facebook statuses, and articles, and posts on how some amazing father did some amazing job with his kids by doing his daughter’s hair and making her lunch and driving her to school.
REALLY? That’s all it takes.
My husband laughs when he goes food shopping with our kids by himself; strangers – both women and men – have physically taken one of our children “off his hands” to relieve my husband of Dadly duties. Then they salute him. Applaud him. Celebrate him. Oooh and Ahhhh him. My husband, with our daughter in a shopping cart and our son in a carrier – neither of them throwing any kind of tantrum – is cheered on by Dad supporters for “giving mom a break” and taking the kids – his kids – for an hour of food shopping. He is revered in a way that would seem as if he just saved them from a burning building. 10th floor. While blindfolded. Carrying 50 pound weights in each arm. Naked. Balls on fire.
LET ME BE CLEAR. I am astonished my the amazingness of the man I married to be a wonderful father and an equally terrific husband on the daily. He is a superstar, rockstar, and moviestar. He is one remarkable parent. But isn’t that his job? To be a dad and dare I say, a remarkable one? But I digress, this is not to take away from the GREATNESS of a GREAT dad. He is. Many dads are. But most don’t do anything that mothers don’t do too. They just get way more credit for, well, parenting.
So today, I don’t want my focus (too much) to be on why dads get so much attention for the spectacular job they do but rather, today, I want to remind you, Mothers, of why moms are awesome. Why you too should be saluted. Applauded. Celebrated. Ooooh-ed and Ahhhh-ed. Even if it is just a trip to the supermarket.
Here’s a Reminder of why you, Mom, are the grandest force of nature:
Because you get migraines and even when you feel like Wile E. Coyote has just dropped an Acme anvil on your head and you’ve spent the afternoon hovered over a toilet dizzy and nauseous and vomiting, you still try to figure out how to get out of bed and take care of your children.
Because you know when your children have a fever without a thermometer.
Because when your child throws up all over her crib in the middle of the night and calls for you, you’re already there cleaning them up.
Because when your child has a fever, you check them for a fever every 15 minutes. And can’t think of anything else.
Because in the most hellish of weeks with headaches, and fevers, and throat infections you can still plan the world’s greatest birthday party and your in-laws visiting.
Because said birthday party is for your second child, who everyone said would get the shaft, but that won’t stop you from throwing the greatest first birthday ever.
Because you schedule doctor’s appointments and reservations and dinner dates and family outings while making breakfast, drinking cold coffee, and putting away all of the toys on the living room floor. For the third time. This hour.
Because you can fly home on a plane with two kids under three with a connecting flight and shrug, “Yeah. I’ll be ok.”
Because you wake up every morning when the sun is still down and dress two kids, feed them, and drive them to grandma’s so that you could work a full day and then come straight home to pick them up and work a full evening.
Because every decision regarding your child is the biggest decision you will ever face and so you put a lot of weight into each and every decision you make: natural birth or c-section, start school this year or next, creamy or chunky peanut butter.
Because the things that make you feel normal or better (i.e. excercise, eating, tooth brushing, sleeping, getting dressed, seeing friends) take a back burner to everything they need.
Because you find ways to leave the house without your children noticing so that they won’t cry ferociously until their face turns purple and you could see that punching bag thingy in the back of their throat (which is called an uvula) at the idea of you not being there.
Because when you try to leave the house without them noticing, they always notice and scream bloody hell and your mother-effing heart breaks every. single. time.
Because when anyone says anything even remotely offensive about your kid, you want to deck them.
Because it doesn’t matter if the person who offended your kid was another kid. You still want to deck them.
Because your kids smack you in the mouth, scream in your face, and throw more attitude than a diva and you sit there with a bold, straight face and take it… and don’t bitch slap anyone.
Because you know when your kid is about to lose their shit at the table and fling a plate full of food and you snatch it before eggs go flying everywhere.
Because the reason the kids don’t throw (too) many tantrums in the shopping cart with dad is because you have taught them patience and how to sit at a table without throwing a fit, all at the expense of your ego, sanity, and eardrums.
YOU, MOM, are exceptional.
Every day. Every minute. Even when you forget that. You convince yourself that mothers are supposed to do these things and be this way so it’s easy to take yourself for granted; to forget that what you do every day is an offering of love. An exchange – exchanging a part of yourself and asking for nothing in return. Not all mothers do this. But you do. Remind yourself of this.
No one can do what you do
…except, apparently, really remarkable dads.