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High-Five, Mom


It’s Mother’s Day weekend and I don’t want to do sappy, tear-jerky, Hallmark card worthy tribute to how beautiful and trans-formative Motherhood is.

Not that it isn’t. Because it is.

I just really want to send a big High-Five out to all of my fellow mother-in-the-trenches out there. To the moms I pass in Target, to the moms I see at the deli counter, at the mall, sitting on benches at the park (or chasing down their toddler, keeping him safe from the big, big slide.) To all the moms who look nothing like me, and to those who do (what’s up two-days-no-shower, ponytail and Old Navy jeans Mama?) High FIVE.

I don’t care how long you breastfed (or if you breastfed at all.) I don’t care if your kid eats only organic, or if you’re a drive-thru maven. I don’t care if your kids have matching socks and sweater-sets, or if they’re rocking a chocolate-milk-stained t-shirt with a logo that says 2009. High FIVE, Mama.

Because, you see, no matter what we all look like, how we appear to the world, either the Facebook world or the actual one, we’re all really in this together and we all deserve a solid pat on the back for the accomplishments that, to any non-parent, might seem mundane.

For surviving pregnancy. High five.

For surviving pregnancy. High five. (No really, I think that one deserves at least two high fives, in and of itself.)

For learning how to change a diaper in the dark. High five.

For mastering the ancient language of tears – understanding the delicate differences between a cry of pain, a cry of fear, a cry of pay-attention-to-me, a cry of I-need-a-nap. High five.

For cleaning. So. Much. Poop. And from places you never expected. Carpets. Bathtubs. Walls. Beneath your nails. (Wash your hands first, but yes,) High five.

For Target melt-downs. And for ever having to be that mother, walking away from a full cart, with your flailing child, screaming in your arms. (Double, high five.)

For soothing fevers, teething babies, children with boo-boos.

For leaving the nightlight on.

For every hour you spend at a playground, when you have a thousand other things YOU would rather be doing.

High five, high five, high five.

For the moms who work outside the home.

For the moms who don’t.

Give each other a high five.

For ever having to play the what on earth made that so sticky??? game while cleaning.  High five.

For learning how to talk on the phone while stirring dinner on the stove, with a toddler attached to your leg. High five.

For quartering a million oranges and bringing them to soccer “games” (where children basically just run amok, occasionally bumping into a ball, perhaps while bending down to pick the most beautiful dandelion.)

For cheering, encouraging, nurturing. High five.

For literally combing your carpet with a fork to dig up every dried bit of Play’doh. High five.

For helping new mothers out with good advice based on your experience – when asked. (And for keeping your opinions to yourself, when not) High five.

For the drawer full of marker-scribbled construction paper crafts and “art” that you just can’t seem to let go. (And for the piles and piles that you secretly sneak into the trash after the kids go to bed.) High five.

For learning to laugh off just about everything, because at some point, you just have to. High five.

For every, rare and wonderful, uninterrupted trip the bathroom. High five.

For every time you find yourself sounding JUST like your mom, and then thinking that it’s a good thing.

For realizing that you really need to call her more often. (If only, dinner wasn’t on the stove and your toddler wasn’t attached to your leg. Then again, if anyone understands, it’s her.)

High Five, Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you Moms out there.  Spread the love this weekend. Do a little less glaring when you see a kid who’s screeching in the grocery store carriage. Do a little more nodding and smiling. Maybe even do a little more high-fiving, because, we all deserve it.


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