Mother’s Day is coming soon. As I always do this time of year, I use the day as kind of a debriefing session for the past year. What went well? What could have gone better? What are my goals as a mother for the coming year?
Okay, that last one is a lie. My goals for motherhood never change. They are to have the children be alive, preferably thriving, and to not have them brought home by the police. It is a lot easier to have a successful year if you don’t set the bar too high.
As I was thinking about my Mother-of-the-Year-worthy moments, it occurred to me that the bulk of my most stellar moments over the past 20 years have happened in the middle of the night. Yes, there were the times during waking hours when I slammed knees in sliding van doors or bloodied noses with boots, but those were accidents and could have happened to anybody. Right? It’s not like I let my babies run around in a saggy diaper drinking soda from their baby bottle.
My best moments of mothering, those times that haunt me and taunt me, have all happened in the middle of the night when I was awakened from a dead sleep and asked to perform maternal duties. I may have mentioned that I am a really good sleeper. I am not so much good at waking up.
See Wednesday's Times Sentinel for the full story.