Every stage of parenting brings with it its own set of thrills and difficulties. My mother's famous mantra "this too shall pass" and prayers have gotten me through every stage of parenting. It's scary when your toddler starts to walk, unsteady steps that only provide a steady stream of visions of terrible falls and smashed faces. It's scary when you send your baby off to school: someone else, a mere stranger really, will be spending more waking hours with your child than you will and will provide a steady source of influence beyond your control. It's scary when your child becomes an adolescent and is faced with the opportunity to make potentially devastating and permanent poor life choices in regards to issues like drinking, drugs, and sex. Let's be real: parenting is kind of like riding a never ending and terrifying roller coaster ride. So many parts are exhilarating but you never know what is coming around the next corner you approach.
And because of this (and maybe this is only me), you constantly worry that you are doing it wrong. That you are failing at parenting. That you could have made different decisions that would have more greatly benefited your children. That maybe, just maybe, you aren't sacrificing enough of yourself even though you can't remember the last time you did something that only benefited you.
But then in the middle of it all, something happens that makes you realize that everything is going to be alright, a small moment in time that snaps you back into reality and allows you to breathe because you know your kids are going to be the kind of adults you will be proud to have played a part in nurturing.
For me, this moment happened last night.
We were out to dinner to celebrate the last day of school when the sky became black and unleashed blinding wind and rain, the kind of wind and rain that floods the streets in minutes and pelts your skin with raindrops that feel like snaps of electricity.
I gave the kids a pep talk and prepared them to make a dash for the car, emphasizing three times NOT TO RUN because the last thing I needed was for someone to trip or slide out and shatter an ankle. We ducked outside, huddling like hamsters under the roof line of the restaurant, and ogled at the storm. Dear God, I could barely even see the car. I made the quick and authoritative decision, "It's not worth it. You all stay here. I will go and bring the car back. I'll pull way up close so you don't have too far to go." Then I turned and made a run for it. Three steps in I realized I couldn't run in my flip-flops, so I walked as quickly as I could, laughing as I made my way to the car. I could hear the kids behind me cheering me on. By the time I reached the car, I was so wet that my jeans and shirt were soaked all the way through and water was running into my eyes from my hair.
I went back for the kids, pulling way up into a loading zone so they only had to traverse 10 feet of the storm. As the side door of the van started to slide open I yelled, "Run!", and my three little ducklings came crashing into the car one at a time, smallest to largest, my son taking up the rear as he let his sisters in first. Everyone was laughing.
Then in a voice so quiet I almost didn't catch it, I heard my son say, "Not all super heroes wear capes." I turned around and looked him in the eyes and said, "Wait, what did you just say to me?". He kept his eyes locked on me and said more loudly, "Mom. Not all super heroes wear capes" and then just smiled at me before looking away.
My heart burst in that moment.
Moms, I know that like me you often feel invisible. But you aren't. Your babies: they see everything even if you don't always realize that they do, and it's often the littlest of things that create the loudest echoes in their minds and hearts. I know you don't do the things you do to receive validation or praise, but your sacrifices do not go unnoticed. Keep up that seemingly invisible fight.
