I am Mom. Mother to my children: birthed and marriage-bonus, on earth and in heaven. I celebrate my children, these gifts straight from God Himself, as these gifts made me who I am today: Their madre. Mother. Mama.
I am Mom.
Owner of the weirdest tidbits of knowledge concerning Transformers, Dr Who, acne treatments, coloring techniques, on-the-fly first aid, and Dora the Explorer (just where ARE her parents?!), I have an uncanny sense of smell and timing -- and often, the two go hand-in-hand. Able to sort laundry, make and serve a sandwich, answer the telephone and insert three dishes into the dishwasher during the two minutes a cup of coffee heats in the microwave, I am a multi-tasking genius.
No. Scratch that. Multi-tasking ninja. I have Mommy-Sense: that all-powerful sixth sense that tells me that when all is quiet on the potty front, something is terribly, terribly wrong and it usually involves toilet paper, three toy cars or the plunger -- or, by golly, it's not a challenge if it's not all three. My Mommy-Sense knows when a kid is lying, trying to lie, trying to cover a lie by lying, or wishes he'd stop smiling so he could lie.
I am Mom! Please don't hear me quietly lock my bedroom door to eat a forbidden chocolate bar I found in my top dresser drawer. I am Mom! I can soothe, smooth, stain-out and stir seemingly all at the same time, just don't ask me to help with fifth-grade math.
I keep emergency birthday presents in a dedicated closet for such things and my husband doesn't understand. I can have a great conversation with my BFF while we both blurt out kid-commands: "Stop hitting!" or "Don't eat that!" or "Get your toe outta your mouth, WHAT is wrong with you?!" while all at the same time not miss a beat discussing the curriculum choice for Vacation Bible School.
I am mom. I hurt when my children hurt. I turn from cuddly mama bear to raging, all-capital letters MAMA BEAR when one of my cubs is in danger, real or imagined. I believe band aids, applied without discretion, can solve most ailments on four-year-olds.
I hug. I kiss. I tickle. I snuggle and giggle. I accept weeds as beautiful flower arrangements.
I am Mom. Like I'm herding cats, I move through the grocery store with my passle of youngins and dare anyone to get anything with sugar in it. I scoop, fold, pick up, and poop with an audience.
I am Mom. I don't need a day for flowers or cards with frilly flowers declaring your undying love for me. I need a nap, dang it. And to pee without everyone needing something right then. I need beds made, kitchens cleaned and homework done with a fight or drama.
I am tired. I am Mom.
I am Mom. And thank you Jesus, for You have made me blessed.
Happy Mother's Day, moms.
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