“Why do they always want only
me?” complains my exhausted daughter
after yet another sleepless night. Her toddler and his infant brother have come
down with one of the debilitating viruses sweeping across California during this dreaded flu season.
“They're sick and you’re their mother,” I
reply, a response that belies my helplessness in the face of evidence so
obvious, so universal, so inexplicably true despite my lack of
understanding the why. Why do
children long to build towers, play cards and stack blocks with Daddy only to
whine miserably for Mommy when their throats are sore and their tummies hurt?
Why indeed? More often now
that retirement allows me the time to reflect, I look back on my own childhood
for answers. Typically, my preferred
parent was my father. He was reasonable, soft-spoken, humorous and open-minded.
My mother, although an interesting, independent woman in her own right, shared few of those qualities and, yet, when my stomach revolted and my
forehead burned, I wanted Mom. Her hands were cool, she smelled like flowers, she
turned my pillow regularly and she knew to feed me dry toast and ginger ale,
instead of the chili and peanuts that invariably were my dad’s contribution. My mother was the parent who worked miracles. She made me well again.
I’m not alone in my latent
appreciation of my mother’s special talent. Wounded soldiers call out for mom. Olympic
medalists and academy award winners credit mothers with their success more often than any other
family member. It makes sense. The bond that begins in the womb and extends
through every milestone in life is a strong one.
A mother may not be the more reasonable parent or the funnier or even the more patient or preferred, but when it comes to her children, she has extra-sensory perception. She sleeps lightly, hears every cough, every cry, and knows when to take action and when to ride it out. She has staying power and she bends with mood swings. She practices spelling lists and math facts, supervises reading logs and explains how to use research without plagiarizing. Mom, even when she works outside the home, is the parent more frequently called when a child is sick. She is the master of forgiving and, something interesting I came across recently, more often than not, a mother determines her children's level of education, regardless of her own. It doesn't matter whether or not she is educated herself, only that her children know she believes it is important. And when a mother becomes a grandmother, she is first on the emergency call list, quite an impressive job description.
A mother may not be the more reasonable parent or the funnier or even the more patient or preferred, but when it comes to her children, she has extra-sensory perception. She sleeps lightly, hears every cough, every cry, and knows when to take action and when to ride it out. She has staying power and she bends with mood swings. She practices spelling lists and math facts, supervises reading logs and explains how to use research without plagiarizing. Mom, even when she works outside the home, is the parent more frequently called when a child is sick. She is the master of forgiving and, something interesting I came across recently, more often than not, a mother determines her children's level of education, regardless of her own. It doesn't matter whether or not she is educated herself, only that her children know she believes it is important. And when a mother becomes a grandmother, she is first on the emergency call list, quite an impressive job description.
“Of course, they want only
you,” I tell my weary, sleep-challenged daughter. “They have only one mother. You are their miracle worker.”