I spend practically every weekend admiring women through a lens. Women that are compassionate and strong willed. Dreamers and entrepreneurs. Some are grieving and treading water. Others are at a mountain top taking in the view and offering their advice to ones still climbing. I have found that the majority of us (including myself) just don’t want to be alone in this walk of motherhood. We crave that wink from the grandmother behind us in the grocery store line telling us, “You’re doing ok. You’ll make it.” We can’t wait to call our mother, sister or best friend to recite the funny 4 year old comment no one else would laugh at. We text each other from our bathroom floors while we hide for 2 minutes of peace during the gang green hour as we hold back tears of exhaustion and guilt. We show up at front doors with wine, coffee and chocolate on the normal days. We show up with Gatorade, soup and bleach on the sick days. We grieve with each other. Desire for each other. Celebrate with each other.
For the 3 am-ers, boo boo kissers, tear wipers.
For the hairdressers, short order cookers, taxi drivers.
For the pb&j makers, personal jungle gymers, sideline cheerleaders, last minute homework completers.
For the midnight rockers, snot nose wipers, floor pacers, fierce defenders of wrong-doers.
For the personal shoppers, pinky-finger holders, pray-in-the-doorway, squishy thigh squeezers.
For the shoe tie-ers, sock finders, hiney wipers, 1,2,3 discipliners.
For the hip holders, teeth brushers, toodler bed sleepers.
For the hurry to bed snugglers, bigger bed upgraders, give up and sleep on the floorers.
For the college savers, first car buyers, wedding dreamers.
For the bridal gown purchasers, first dance cryers, multiple phone calls a day advice givers.
For the c-sectioners, naturals, grow in your hearters.
For the eat while you standers, arms around waist consolers, freshly bathed hair breathers.
For the work all day, up all nighters, dance on your toers, let’s have one more-er.
For the wishers this stage would be over, for the wisher it would never end, for the wishers to go back.
For the broken, angel grievers, clinging to hope-ers.
These are just a few of my favorites that stand out in my mind, including a few my hubby has snapped of my life.
Happy Mother’s Day.