Have you seen that commercial with the “invisible” mom? Well, I think that’s what’s happened to me, at least sometimes.
I’m not complaining, mind you, because I willfully chose to be a mom.
Now, how does this relate to being a superhero? Well, technically, it doesn’t.
However, what mom hasn’t had that superhero feeling when she sewed together a torn up teddy bear? (Or in my case, a Blue’s Clue’s doll).
What mom hasn’t saved the day, at least once? I think that sometimes, moms can be mistaken for superheroes.
Sure, we save the day pretty regularly, but what about those times we can’t fix it?
That’s where the myth comes in. Moms can do anything.
Did you know a mom’s kiss can fix a boo boo? It’s true. Takes the pain right out of there.
Did you know that a mom’s spit can wash a face and smooth down crazy hair in a pinch? Okay, that one’s a little gross, but come on, admit it, you’ve done it too.
Oh, and every mom has a built in thermometer. Mine’s in my lips, but others have them in their wrists, hands, cheeks…wherever. We can also tell with complete accuracy when our kids have ear infections (or sinus infections) based on how their breath smells. And we always know what to do to make them feel better when their tummies hurt.
We never want to have to tell our kids that we CAN’T do anything. But there are some things we can’t fix. We can’t fix bullies or other mean kids.
We can’t fix sub-par teachers and school districts—but at least we can move if we must. We can’t fix deadbeat dads.
We can’t fix disease. Sure, we can make it all better if it’s a cold or a scrape, but we can’t fix the serious stuff. How do we look our babies in the eyes and tell them that we are only human?
I guess it’s a lesson we must also learn ourselves. We are JUST human. And being such is truly a gift. But still…
One time, in my single mom days, there was this terrible storm coming through. The TV said to take cover, it was gonna be a bad one.
When I heard the freight train coming, I took my son to the only safe place in our slab house—the bathroom, which had no windows and a concrete wall. (We live in the Midwest, you know, tornado central.
If you hear the freight train, you take cover immediately because it usually means a tornado coming your way.) So I took Cameron into the bathroom and had him lay face down in the bathtub. I then crouched over his little body, covering him with my own, then put my arms around his head, then covering it with my own.
As the storm barreled over my home, I thought the roof would be torn off. I had visions of rubble and destruction. The only thought that kept going through my mind was that even if I died, the worst thing that Cameron would have to deal with would be having to push his dead mother off him to get help.
I knew that he would live, no matter what happened to me. All the while, Cameron and I sang “rain, rain, go away, come again another day, Mom and Cameron want to play…”
True story. The reason I am telling you this is to show you that moms will do just about anything to make it “okay” for their kids. Even sing a dumb song while being certain that her own death is imminent, just so her kid won’t worry.
So now that I’ve babbled on awhile, let me get to the bottom of this. My point is and was: How do we, as moms, tell our kids that we can’t fix it all for them?
I haven’t learned this yet. I know that my own mom hasn’t made it all okay for me.
I guess the answer is that we do what we can, we try our best, and when we can’t fix it, we love them even more. Maybe that’s how that superhero mom thing works…