My Moment of Zen

I don't think I'm alone in saying that one of the best and worst things about being a Mom is being the #1 Caretaker in the home.

Taking care of all it's inhabitants is only part of the job description, but what a blessing and a curse it is!

Like when you wake up in the middle of the night to a silently crying child standing next to your bed covered in vomit.

Such was the case last night. I opened my sleep-crusted eyes to see my little boy covered in pink puke, standing silently watching me, pleading for help with his sad little eyes. The first thought is, "Oh My God, what happened? You poor baby!"

The second thought? "Oh shit. Now I have to get up and clean piles of stinky vomit off the bed, the floor, any surrounding furniture, and..oh yeah -- off the kid, too."

And so I did. And it sucked, just like I knew it would. But it was wonderful as well, knowing that of all the people in the whole wide world, I was the one put here to help this little angel-monster in times like these. The work is at times wretched, the pay is non-existent, but knowing that you are finally doing something that no one else can do, well, that kinda makes it worth it.

Yes, I did gag (especially when I found Lola licking up bits of barf from the floor), and yes, I am tired this morning, but I just remember all those times my mom did the same for me, without ever uttering a negative word (though surely many were fluttering through her mind) and how safe I felt knowing she would take care of me and I would be alright.

And now that I'm a mom, I miss those days -- having someone else clean up my messes, shower me with love when I'm down, and cuddle with me when I feel sick -- but I keep her right there with me as I do the same for my kiddos, grudgingly or not, because I know that if I do nothing else right as a parent, I can at least kiss the boo-boo's away, hold a feverish hand, and clean up all the vomit they can dish out, because someone else did it for me.

And my Dad? Well, my he was always there, too -- gagging in the background and grumpy from lack of sleep. So I guess I carry him with me, too. And that's just as important, because just because we become moms doesn't mean we become Martyrs -- we don't love doing the dirty work, we just love who it is we're doing it for.