This is not a Mother’s Day piece, it’s an everyday piece that just happens to land the week before Mother’s Day.
Here’s the takeaway: Moms are freaking amazing.
If you’re too busy being one or need to quickly find a present for your mom or wife that’s not a scented body lotion gift set from Walgreens, get back to it. Please.
For the rest of you, join me on this rambling rediscovery of something we already know, but that deserves to be repeated.
Last Friday night I was at a work gathering, commiserating with a fellow mom (and awesome director of our largest account) about the ridiculous series of events that had nearly kept me from making it to the party.
I rattled off the past 24 hours:
Thursday, 2:30pm: Left in the middle of a super full workday to help my husband wrestle a hundred-pound, sick goat into the back seat of our truck so we could take him to the only goat vet available — an hour away. (Good news, he’s fine.)
5:45 pm: Got home, ten minutes after I was supposed to take our son to school to prep for his jazz band concert that night. I leave my husband and goat in the driveway and zip to school with our son.
6:25 pm: Got back home, cleaned up, and headed back to the band concert with the rest of the fam. (It rocked. Or jazzed.)
9:15 pm: Back home, made dinner, ate at 9:45.
10:00 pm: Hopped on my computer to finish up earlier work and get ahead because tomorrow I have the “day off!” Finish at 12:30 am.
Friday, 7:30 am: Meet a different vet at the barn for annual horse vaccinations. Mini farm life = glamorous.
9:00 am: Leave with my daughter to drive two hours to her state choir championships.
Watch her group compete, (they did great!) attend celebratory lunch with 16 choir kids and a handful of parents. Drive two hours back home in silence because we are both introverts and that was a lot.
5:40 pm: Get home, catch up on missed emails and stare at the ceiling in a daze for approx 12 minutes.
6:25 pm: Time to head to the work party! But first, I have to give our sick goat a penicillin shot. This takes two adults and one large kid to accomplish. Traumatic for all.
6:45 pm: Clean off goat smell and head into Seattle for the work party that started at 5:30.
7:50 pm: Due to an accident on the I-90 bridge, finally arrive near the party.
8:05 pm: Zero parking anywhere. Drive around for 15 more minutes contemplating scrapping it/my life choices. Parking spot magically appears.
8:20 pm: Walk into party, instantly grateful I made it.
My friend nodded with understanding and empathy, and then told me about her last two days, which are already crazier than goats because she is the mom of energetic 7-year-old twin girls.
Behold her two-day journey:
Thursday: One twin sang so loudly she injured her vocal cords and could barely talk. Since her daughter’s not on track for an Eras tour anytime soon, my friend wasn’t worried, but called their pediatrician. The doctor insisted she be seen right away.
12:00 pm: My friend leaves a crazy busy workday to take her daughter to the doctor. Doctor refers her to a specialist at Childrens Hospital, asap. My friend calls to find out the wait is months.
Friday 8:00 am: My friend drops her girls at school, settles into her workday, catches up on craziness from the day before.
11:00 am: Gets a call from Children’s Hospital saying that they have a rare opening TODAY at 1:30 and will see her daughter.
12:00 pm: She leaves in the middle of putting out yesterday’s fires to pick up her daughter from school, and drive an hour to the appointment. Doctor is delayed. Finally gets in at 2:30 pm- her daughter is totally fine. Like nothing happened.
3:30 pm: My friend drives an hour back home, arrives just in time to pick up her other daughter and make it to another appointment at 4:30.
5:30 pm: They finish, she and her husband meet halfway so she can hand off the girls and then she heads straight back into the city to make it to the party.
As she tells me this, she points to her flannel shacket over a t-shirt, (which she still looked great in) but clearly read: “I’m running out the door with seconds to spare” vs “I’m seeing work friends in person for the first time in three months.”
We laugh and hug.
Are these examples full of privilege? 100%. Do way more trying versions of this, with more kids and fewer means and often no supportive spouse happen to moms (and yes, dads too, but moms are the star today) in every corner of the world? Yes.
But do we do all this and sometimes feel like we’re the only ones, yet also accept that it’s totally normal?
Every damn day.
Maybe we can’t have it all at the same time. But we certainly attempt to do it all, and 99% of the time we pull it off. Well. The other 1% is just us judging ourselves for not doing it better.
So, I’m just here to say, holy shit. She is amazing. You are amazing.
We are all freaking Wonder Woman.
My cape might have a little goat poop on it, but it doesn’t matter. I am in awe of us.
Happy everyday, Moms.