I’ve decided not to run for Mother of the Year. I’m going to settle for “Mother of the Moment.” That annual award is just so much pressure. Most days I don’t even qualify to be on the ballot. But every once in a while, I shine. Every so often, I scream, “Mom points! Right here!” I believe you have to celebrate those moments. I’ll share mine, then you share yours, OK?
Mother of the Moment #1
On my way to get the kids after school last week, Maddie called from the school office in a pitiful, panicky voice. “A baby bird fell out of its nest at school, and we think it has a broken wing. My teacher put it in a bucket with some leaves. Can we take it home and nurture it back to health?” Oh, Lord. Who has two thumbs and is the only mom in the school who gets the call to care for wounded animals? This gal! Ends up that a mean little bully in the 5th grade (with a history of picking on Chance, but I digress) had found the poor thing on the ground (note: normal for doves), lifted it up by its wings and threw it down on the concrete. Apparently this was the last straw, and Maddie was so distraught she couldn’t NOT rescue it. My kid. I said we couldn’t keep it but could find the right place for it. And – insert mom points here – by the time I got to school 10 minutes later, I already had a wildlife rehabilitation center on standby, waiting for our arrival with said bird in tow.
Mother of the Moment #2
My son’s baseball practice was cancelled due to rain. Why?! What little boy doesn’t love to splash in a puddle and get muddy? We were already en route and the weather had cleared, so I took the opportunity to give my little slugger a little batting practice. So there I am – still wearing my preppy sweater and pearls from work … no joke … I am literally wearing pearls – trying to pitch to this kid; and I’m awful. I mean really awful. We only have 1 ball and a glove for a left-handed 8-year-old. So now I’ve got hands dyed orange from the clay on the ball, making me look like I just applied a self-tanner to someone else (since I clearly am not the tan one … would that make it “other-tanner”?). One ball hits me in the gut, leaving an orange circle on my sweater and a clay trail down my pants to complete the look. Even though it’s no longer raining, the rain-soaked batting cage net has sagged in the middle, dripping onto my glasses and making it hard to see … I think that’s why the pitching isn’t improving. My son tells me, “Mom, you pitch like you’re playing T-ball.” “There are no pitchers in T-ball, son.”, I explain. To which he replies, “I know.” Little punk. Mom points!
Some of the moments are more fleeting…
… Like the time we talked the restaurant staff into sending us home with two bags of “the good, crunchy ice” and had snowball fights in the front yard with the neighborhood kids.
… Or the time we made a fake marching band with random instruments like plastic maracas, a ukelele, a triangle, etc. We really did march up and down the street playing for anyone who would listen to our cacophonic symphony.
… This week I picked up my son from school, recognized a raging case of strep throat (my secret mom fear has long been that I wouldn’t know what strep looked like, but it’s like love or the perfect handbag – you’ll know it when you see it!), and walked into the doctor’s office to get him seen before they closed, even though they don’t take walk ins.
You never know when you wake up that you’ll get the opportunity to be Mother of the Moment that day. You’ve just got to be ready for it. That Mother of the Year thing is just too strategic for me anyway.
Animal Rescuer of the Year? Chances are slim to none.
Pitcher of the Year? Not a chance.
Mother of the Moment? Heck yeah, I am!
When was your last “Moment”?
