Me? I'm just Mom. Plain old all-day-every-day boring Mom. I used to envy Steve because of the excitement he triggered just by walking through the door. Wasn't anyone ever excited to see me?
Have any of you other moms noticed that when your kids have thrilling news, or when it's time to play, or when spirits are simply running high, Dad is the parent of choice? But, on the other hand....
Have you noticed that when a child wakes up sick in the middle of the night, or has a bad dream, he always - always - stumbles groggily to Mom's side of the bed. "Moooommm, I don't feel so good!" On a few particularly weary occasions, I actually "played 'possum", hoping my little night shadow would migrate around to Dad's side of the bed. Nope.
This got me to wondering - Why is it that happy times must be shared with Dad, but midnight goblins and 2:00 AM throw-ups demand Mom's attention? It seemed to me that disproportionate honor was being given to the male parent!
As I continued muddling over this phenomenon, something occurred to me. Those late-night entreaties for comfort were actually an unconscious display of tremendous honor. When my child was ill or frightened in the dark of the night, the need for reassurance or comfort meant he needed Mom.
I wanted to be chosen for the laughter and merriment that fell to Dad, but had instead been chosen for the tears and fears and fevers. Still, realizing that I had been singled out for the "honor" of wee-hour willies made me aware that I was indeed special to my children. Those nights of interrupted sleep became a little bit less of a burden, more of a privilege.
* * * * *
"Hmmm?" My eyes didn't want to open. "Climb up next to me, honey. You're okay." Barely reaching consciousness, I snuggled my toddler close and tucked the blankets around her. Motherhood - what a tremendous honor!