An ode to everyday moms

Everyday moms, I love you. Each of you is a wonder and a force of nature.

Like the rest of us, you daily manage a busy life. You move through the world running errands and managing to-do lists, getting stuck in traffic and getting put on hold to bad music when calling the pharmacy.

But, you have a beautiful secret. Unbeknownst to the folks standing in line behind you at the store, you have a cadre of skills and talents that only everyday moms (and dads) possess.

You are the purveyor of sandwiches with crisply trimmed crusts, carrying a mental calendar populated with doctor and dentist appointments, birthdays, lists of food allergies, CPR protocols, and your child’s latest favorite TV show characters.

You can make a can of spaghetti-Os without consulting the directions.

You’ve been known to send a favorite pair of jeans through the wash three times in a single week so your teenager’s head doesn’t explode.

On request, you do a dramatic recitation of the words to “Goodnight, Moon” by heart, complete with sound effects for the sleeping mittened kittens.

In a pinch, you can Iron Chef a meal for three or more from a can of tomato sauce, some cheese, and an eggplant.

You have the most efficient path through the supermarket mentally mapped so you can easily obtain the weekly essentials with the children in tow.

Your most treasured work of art in the house is made of paste and elbow macaroni, proudly displayed on the fridge.

And, your favorite shirt is perennially stained with strawberry jam (or was it grape juice?). (Those are the stains of love, by the way.)

As an everyday mom, you have the most important considerations bookmarked in your heart: your child’s fears, worries, preferences and dreams tucked carefully away, ready for consultation at a moment’s notice.

Your love is an everyday love.  You love your children through all of the seasons, in sundresses and sweaters, through corduroy and denim.

Best of all, you are bravely imperfect in the face of the world and your children—you make mistakes, and you acknowledge them. Thank you for sharing your victories and mistakes and uncertainties with us. You give the rest of us hope that we can raise our children and ourselves strong and well in an uncertain world. You help us remember the value of good enough.

Everyday moms, you set an example for us all.

But a few days after Mother’s Day, I want to take a moment to point out other qualities of character that sometimes get lost in the fray of motherhood.

What I especially admire about you is your own brightly burning self. Not only are you a brilliant sun at the heart of your family’s constellation, you are a person like anyone else. You have longings, fears, passions, and dreams of a vacation at the beach. And as you attend so carefully to these wishes and fears in your children, I hope you also remember to attend to yourself.

And so, I have three wishes for you in this meditation on motherhood:

I hope you give yourself the gift of a life outside of motherhood. I hope you stay in close touch with your friends, family, and spouse. I hope you don’t forget the hobbies you love. I hope you treat yourself to a quiet cup of coffee and five minutes of solitude in dark morning, before anyone else is stirring. I hope you have a babysitter that you use on a regular basis. I hope that you put yourself first sometimes.

I hope you ask for help when you need it. It’s a big job—please let someone else help you with it.

I hope you know how much we all appreciate just how well you’re doing the world’s most important job.

You deserve a raise. I wish I could give you one—but instead I’ll offer you these words for your consideration. Please take good care of yourself and know how valued you are.