Friday, May 10, 2013

Mothers Got a Hard Road

It's career day at school.

There's a mom who is a lawyer.
A dad who's a fireman.
A contractor.
A chef.

There is hardly ever a mom who is simply a mom at career day.

Unfortunately, our culture has defamed the name of mother into a side-job, an unimportant, unappealing choice.

Lawyer moms are seen as heroes while mom moms are seen as burdens on society.

There is no hero like a mother, though.

My mom gets up before five some mornings with Levi. She makes him homemade smoothies for the day - spinach, carrots, fruits, juices, coconut water, almond milk, proteins, vitamins.

She changes his diaper (a much more arduous process than you would think), gives him his medicine through his mic-key button, and gets him ready for school.

She makes sure Jace has all his homework before he heads out the door at 6:56.

Then she gets Evan up, changes her diaper, gets her dressed, and feeds her breakfast.

Sometimes Levi throws things at people. Sometimes he takes something from Evan, and she starts sobbing. Mom has to fix it.

It takes a good ten minutes sometimes to get the kicking, screaming Levi out of the car at school at 8:30.

Then she does things like running errands, going to IEPs, scheduling therapies, and learning how to help Levi talk with a communication device.

After a three-hour hiatus from motherhood while the kids are at school, she goes to pick them up, taking them to two different places to get fries. McDonald's because they're the only ones that are gluten-free for Evan. Then Zaxby's because Levi asked for them, and she wants to instill in him that his voice has value.

Sometimes they come home and do bubbles. Sometimes they paint or color. Sometimes they play outside and draw with chalk. Sometimes they have a dance party.

During the dance party, Evan will annoy Levi. He'll throw something at her head. Evan will start crying. Levi will dart under the table to avoid his impending punishment. Mom will have to fish him out, and hold him in a "time-in", while trying to calm Evan down at the same time.

Three hours later, she'll lift Evan over the gate that blocks off our stairs, and send her up to bed with an iPad. She'll sit in Levi's dark bedroom for an hour, waiting for him to fall asleep, since he cries when no one's in his room with him.

When they wake up, Levi will want cheese puffs. They'll sit out for a few minutes while he's distracted by his trains, and by then he'll want new ones. Some days Evan will have reached into her diaper and smeared poop all over herself and her sheets. Another load of laundry, a washcloth-bath.

Then she'll fix dinner, waiting for Dad to get home. Sometimes Dad has to work late, though, and she'll be alone with the kids for the rest of the night. Jace will need a ride to church, so she'll pile all three kids in the car and drive them to Brentwood.

After dinner comes diaper-changing and pajamas. Levi spills his medicine and it has to be made again. Evan is crying because she can't get over the gate to go to bed.

Then she sings with both of them, says a prayer and kisses them goodnight. Exhausted, she still finds time to ask how my day was, or watch an episode of the The Voice.

She goes to sleep, knowing that the same thing will happen again tomorrow.

That is a job.

That is a career.

And that is why moms are heroes.

Especially mine.

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