The Boogeymom

As a mother, I wear many hats.  I am a personal chef, wardrobe consultant, chauffeur, bodyguard, teacher, maid (ok, who am I kidding, I threw that one in there for a chuckle to anyone who knows me), butt-wiper, tear-dryer, yada yada yada - you get the drift.  Sometimes I'm the good cop, sometimes I'm the bad cop (so mean, in fact, that my three year old declares she wants a new mommy).  Naturally, I offer suggestions of other mother's she is welcome to adopt but that is completely separate blog. 

Today, I am the "boogeymom."  This is the less intimidating version of the illusive "boogeyman" who threatens children although I'm not exactly sure what he's threatening to do to them - hock a loogey??  As the "boogeymom," I have the pleasant task of wiping drippy noses, suctioning snot, dispensing medicine, soothing whimpers and whines but mostly yearning for my babies to get better. 

I really don't know how parents of terminally ill children or parents of children with long-term health conditions do it.  Not to say that if I were in those circumstances that I would give up on my child or offer anything short of the best care I could possibly give.  I mean it from the perspective of watching your child suffer or struggle day in, day out.  How do they do it?  Using a bulb to clear my nine-month old's nose to help her breathe better breaks my heart and makes me want to discover a miraculous cure for the common cold besides "letting it run it's course" (so I've been told).  I cannot begin to imagine how the parents of a child with cancer or a heart defect or juvenile diabetes (just to name a few) must feel.  We are supposed to be able to take care of our children - nurture them, care for them, protect them.  Their helplessness and vulnerability is both beautiful and painful.  Beautiful because (admit it) it feels good to be wanted, needed, depended on but painful because at times, you're just as helpless as they are when there is nothing you can do to help your child. 

Thankfully, my children are both overall healthy other than these viruses that seem to be lingering.  That means that right now my shushing when I'm trying to calm them down and my tight squeeze as I hold them and rock them to sleep is exactly what they need.  It does the job!  I hope I never have to be the parent who distracts the child who has to receive chemo or radiation treatments or the mom who's hand is squeezed each time the child receives an insulin injection.  For those of you who read this and have ever worn those hats, I commend you.  For those of you who read this and have not, I pray you and I never have to!

Mommy Dearest

Today, I found myself ignoring my daughter R's calls.  Not on purpose, of course.  I heard her shouting "Mommy?  Mommmmmy?  Mommy, where are YOU?" but for the few seconds I was hiding in the shower while we played an impromptu game of hide and seek, I forgot who I was.  Not only did I forget that I was her mommy but that I was a mommy in general.  The sound of "MOMMY" rolling off her tongue sounded so foreign and awkward.  I can't explain it exactly other than to call it an "out of mommy experience." 

Don't get me wrong, I love being a mommy.  Who am I kidding?  Even more than that, I love being her mommy.  There is no greater sense of pride or love than what I feel for my two daughters.  I often lose my own identity which is perfectly fine because being the mother of these two girls is so much more interesting than being me. 

For the rest of the day, as R called me "mommy," it felt as natural as breathing.  It was only for those few brief moments that I felt like an outsider looking in.  I am so accustomed to being referred to as mommy now that when I stop and analyze what that term of endearment really means, it makes everything seem surreal.  That must've been why it sounded so odd hearing it today - it's just too good to be true.  But it is true, I really am a mom.

And all I know is that when reality set back in, I gratefully realized how much I love being called mommy!