Yesterday was one of those days that didn’t stop. I woke up, drove over 160 miles for work, did my physical therapy, came home, took care of the puppy dogs, wrapped presents, cleaned the kitchen, did a load of laundry–folding only my scrubs–and finally sat down to call Tiny Tot. I was beyond exhausted, I was beyond hungry, and I was fraying at the seams. At that point, had anyone asked me to get in the car and drive, homocide would have occurred.
But, if anyone could have brought a smile to my face in that moment, it would have been Tiny. He has a way of doing that; a way of infusing joy into the darkest hour.
Except, yesterday, he didn’t.
Throughout the evening I received a lot of pictures from Tiny’s day. Perusing the images, I was able to see that he had spent time with Brother, ran around the park with some friends, and had what looked like the best day, ever. So, I imagined I would have an excited-to-relay-the-events-of-the-day boy jabbering at me over FaceTime.
Not even close.
He wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even grunt at me. I got zilch to sum up my craptastic day of driving all over the city of Houston, fighting Christmas traffic, and getting irritated at truly horrible drivers. So, after my beautiful, green-eyed boy refused to speak to me, I threw in the proverbial towel. It was yet another Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Mommy’s Bad Day.
And I still have no deserted island.
But, when I laid down in bed, I remembered that even though I get no words on some days, there are other days when my child can make me feel a hundred feet tall, and lift my soul in moments, using only his words.
He makes me feel like Super Woman.
Or like Super Mom.
It then occurred to me–because I’m a thinker–that other moms feel the exact same way I do in a moment when their tiny humans ignore them, or refuse to speak to them. Those are the moments when we, as mothers, need to remember the better days of Momdom. Because, in the never-ending job of motherhood, it’s the amazing moments, from the lips of our tiny humans, that continuously keep us plugging along.
Here are a couple of ways in which our kiddo’s words can lift our tired, frayed minds on even the worst of days.
Mommy, I love you.
It can come with a hug. It can come with a kiss. It can arrive in a moment of repetition, … but it’s honest. Our babies love us with an unmitigated, undeserving, pure, wholesome love. There are no attached strings. There isn’t even the hope of love returned. They just … love us.
That’s enough to keep me moving throughout the day.
You’re the best mommy in the whole world.
No, no I’m not. I mean, on a scale of one to best, I’ve seen the Pinterest moms. I’ve seen the moms of five who cook picture-worthy meals every night, after planning them the week before, while baking two gluten-free pies from apples and cherries grown in their own garden, whose husbands surprise them with special trinkets throughout the week, … and they have a home-based, thriving business. Not only that, but they do it while managing to have perfect hair, perfect bodies, and perfect makeup.
I mean, seriously, kid. Did you miss those moms?
But, I’m the only mommy Tiny Tot has, and to him, I’m the best. So he takes me for what I am–a mommy burning the candle at both ends, trying to make ends meet, planning meals on the fly, working odd hours, while trying to wrangle in two puppies. He sees his mom with frizzed hair pulled in a haphazard bun, makeup thrown across her face in the rush to get out the door for work, and scrubs. Not only that, but half of our lessons get done in the car driving to and from preschool.
But, if he thinks I’m the best, I’ll take it.
You’re my prettiest mommy.
Our hair can be in curlers, we can be dripping in sweat from the gym, we may even be covered in cake batter from a project gone awry, but in that moment, our children will look at us, and believe we are the prettiest person they’ve ever laid eyes on. No, they haven’t seen a picture of Heidi Klum, and they haven’t noticed Sandra Bullock’s perfect butt, but we are their object d’art, and that’s all they need in the world.
I remember last Valentine’s, when I was the World’s Grumpiest Mom, and my son turned to me and said, “Mommy, if you’re pretty, people should give you flowers. You’re the prettiest Mommy, so I want to give you flowers.”
No one can be Scroogey after that.
You look beautiful today, Mommy.
This has the same implication as being the prettiest mommy, except it’s more specific. Maybe it’s a new sundress, new boots, a new hair style, or the smile on a mom’s face when she realizes it’s the weekend, but it’s been noticed, appreciated, and admired by the tiny humans.
For me, it’s probably because I finally stopped wearing scrubs, and my hair’s actually fixed. I mean, there’s only so much willpower to style hair at 0500.
My mommy is very strong, she has really big muscles.
Heck yea. This is a new one for me, but it speaks to all the gym-going mommies. It used to be that only Daddy was strong. Only Daddy could slay dragons. Only Daddy could scare off monsters.
Mommy can beat up the bad guys, and ward off evil with her big, strong muscles. Yeah.
In those moments when we feel weak, when we feel frayed, and when nothing is going right in the world of Momdom, it’s the words spoken from our tiniest of humans that make us feel pretty darn amazing.
What are your tiny people telling you?