I’ve had some pretty awesome and pretty rotten jobs in my work history thus far. Everything from rubbing elbows with some of the most well-known of political figures to forays into the depths of the worst parts of this town to drudge up drug addicted individuals who’ve neglected their kids. But by far, the best job I’ve ever had comes with the simple title of “Mom.”
Sure the job came with sleepless nights, extra laundry, potty training, horrid permanent stretch marks and, in my case since I was roughly the size of a VW Beetle, repairs requiring nothing short of a tummy tuck. However, along with those things came the greatest joy I’ve ever known, love in it’s purest form, laughter of the best kind and gratefulness for the tiny glimpse of what my heavenly Father’s love for me must be like.
The job certainly has never been anything flashy or notable to most, but to two smallish type people in my home I know it means something. I think anyone who is a parent knows that most days just simply feel like routine; up, dressed, eat, school, home, eat, homework, showers, bed – and repeat! But somewhere in the midst of that routine you find that you really are molding the form of a grown-up-to-be. For me that comes in all kinds of forms from terrifying to ecstatic. Sure I do all I can to try to teach my girls the right, moral, good way to do things, but what I don’t always realize is that just their presence teaches me to be a better person too. So many times I find myself faced with decisions to be made and situations and people to be dealt with and my barometer is usually “When my girls get older and find out about my life what do I want them to think about me and my actions?”
It’s not always easy to go along with the actions I think would make them most proud of me as a person and mom someday, but I suppose that’s what having kids is all about; sacrifice. Despite the awesome responsibility, early Saturday mornings, extra laundry, and occasional sick duty, “Mommy” is the best job in the whole entire world. My girls are my conscience, my joy and my sanity. At times they were the only reason to get out of bed when I would have rather wallowed in self-pity. No such chance with them, and for that I am truly blessed! My cup runs over!
