at the job of single moms.
Because, let’s face it,
kids don’t ‘get’ Mother’s Day,
Anymore than they ‘get’ ‘mommy is sick’ days.
When it comes right down to it,
the (adequate) celebration of Mothers Day (read: dinners magically prepared, dishes washed and put away, poopy diapers changed all day long),
It falls squarely on the shoulders of dad.
And today, as I was laying in bed
listening to the sounds of spring outside my window
that harmonized perfectly with the clinking and clanking in the kitchen
As my hubby directed the breakfast-making kids,
I was suddenly hit by the fact that there are (way too many) homes
where there is a dom…
a mom…
who also plays dad…
and carries the stress load of twice the legal limit
and somehow still puts a smile on her face as she greets her sweet kiddos
and gets up on Mother’s Day to cook her own meals.
And forges through the day in and day out of caring for her most treasured possessions.
and waits until they are all softly asleep
before letting her tears fall
and her fears show.
And then gets up the next day
to go through it all again.
Knowing that her pain and her stress and her struggles
Will someday work out.
And these children she is rearing
Will rise up and thank her
For going through the trenches
to feed them, and clothe them, and most importantly
to love them and teach them.
And do it singlehandedly, the absolute best that she knows how.
And relies on God to give her the strength to do it when she doesn’t know how.
She is a true hero to me, wherever she is.
My mother in law is one such amazing woman.
She raised my husband.
And his brother
and his sister.
Alone.
And did an amazingly wonderful job.
Thank you, Sue.
For raising my husband, best friend, and father of my children.
Thank you for bringing him into the world.
And raising him in your world.
So that he could become my world.
Happy Mother’s Day.
