Amazing, Phenomenal, Strong: It’s Just What Moms Do

A funny and frightening and pretty typical thing happened last night. I was already in bed when Husband came home from watching game 7 at a buddy’s house. Since our kids have taken to become obsessed with falling asleep in our room, Daughter was still in our bed. And because Husband is clumsy, he opened his drawer a little too far out and it made a thundering BANG! My body responded instantly. In one swift and responsive movement, I jumped up and grabbed the She-Babe, assuming, at the least, that she was falling out of bed and, at most, that this was the apocalypse. (Because I immediately go there.) I rolled my eyes and probably (definitely) curse-mumbled when I realized the “emergency” was Husband fumbling around. And the last thought I had as my adrenaline lowered from an apocalyptic spike to a drowsy slumber was this simple and true thought: That’s just what moms do.

Not the cursing at their husbands (though maybe sometimes) but the immediate, gut reaction to jump into action where their kids are concerned. From dead sleep to dead on, we react swiftly and show up immediately. And this goes for every mom-type I know: birth moms, single moms, adoptive moms, first-time moms, veteran moms, dog moms, helicopter moms, go with the flow moms, perfect moms, hot mess moms. A mom is a mom because the instinct to protect and nurture is real no matter the type or bond. We are the stories of superhuman strength that lift cars when children are trapped underneath. There’s no processing time, just instinctive response. We are on call all day, everyday. For. Life. We are 24/7.

We wait moooonths for babies to sleep through the night only to wonder why they haven’t woken up when they sleep through the night. Then we stealthily army crawl into their room at 2am to make sure they are breathing. It’s why when they have a fever, we set our alarm to every 30 minutes and take their temperature until the fever breaks. And why when a kid cries at the playground all the moms look up at the same time to see if that’s their kid. It’s why even when they leave the house and are 38 years old and married with kids of their own, you check their Facebook to search for proof of life (Like my mom does. Like I’m sure I’ll do one day).

That’s just what moms do. 

Husband takes the kids to their bed every night after they’ve fallen asleep, but lately they’ve started to come back in the middle of the night. When the Girl-Child comes back, she sleeps on top of me; when the Boy-Child returns he rolls up like a small puppy in between my legs. I”m quite literally pinned down. I’ve caught Husband’s confused/horrified reaction on several mornings followed by, “I don’t know how you sleep like that.” The truth is I sleep terribly. The truth also is I sleep better. Because when they’re there, I know they’re safe.

That’s just how moms think.

A couple weeks ago, the She-Babe was singing a song at an assembly with a few other classrooms. The song was a minute long — not a Broadway production by any means. Husband let me sleep in that morning due to my terrible sleeping described above. When I woke up, first, I remembered that she had to wear something specific. In a panic, I messaged him; he had her clothes covered. Then the panic set in that I was going to miss it. I leapt out of bed, got dressed and ran out the door. (I apologize to anyone who talked to me that morning since teeth brushing was a luxury I didn’t have time for). People stared at the lunatic sprinting who obviously wasn’t going for a morning run in Birkenstocks. I was down the block when I legit thought I’d pass out because, let’s face it, I’m no runner. Security knew better than to stop my dead bolt down the hallway to the auditorium.

I busted in and made a beeline for Husband, “Did she go yet?”

“Holy crap. How did you get here so fast?”

“Did (out. of. breath) she (hunched over) go yet? (hyperventilate hyperventilate hyperventilate).” 

“She just went…” he responded. I gasped for any available air in the universe and broke into an instant soul-hurting sob. “No. No! I’m just kidding,” he retracted, “she hasn’t gone yet.”

I’ve often told Husband his poorly-timed jokes are awful but this morning, only the fact that we were in public saved his life. I composed myself and said, “Please don’t ever let me sleep in on days they are doing something special.”

That’s just how moms roll. 

We can’t help but be extra. To give 150% on a regular day and 112% on a bad day. We give more love than we have for ourselves – one more song, one more hug, one more kiss, one more cuddle. And it’s these times, my friends, that I hope you know what a good mom you are. Because it’s hard — in the small moments of every day when you’re tired and haven’t brushed your teeth and forget a performance or don’t feel like going for a walk or scream more than you want to or get frustrated more than you wish you would — to remember that what you do is physically and emotionally phenomenal. You are a miracle, a freak of nature, and you’re doing the best you can.

And your best is amazing. Because amazing is just what moms do.

P.S. You don’t suck at adulting and how I’m still feeling contractions.