Super Saturday

Sometimes I doubt my ability as a Mom.  

I am a fine the-stuff-of-life-mom.  The doctor-appointment-making, food-prepping, make-it-to-work-on-time-mom.

But not Mom.

You know, that magical creature who manages to pull off powerful and meaningful life experiences daily.  Mom who does holiday crafts.  Mom who joyously learns all the words to every kid's song.

This is not a cynical or judgemental view of these incredible women, it is just aspiration.

All mom's have guilt.  We are given it free-of-charge with the birth of our children.  And us working moms, have a special brand of guilt.  Often failing to realize that the happy moments of laying (exhausted) on the floor, allowing our child(ren) to jump on our stomachs while laughing hysterically, counts as meaningful and valuable together time.  I know that I feel inadequate because on many days I see my son for 2.5 hours a day.  That is a small number.  It is very hard not to feel guilty about it.  The other 21.5 hours are spent sleeping or at daycare. Which makes that ability to be Mom, feel like an impossible task.

But as I mentioned, it can be a great motivator.  

Last Saturday, I planned a Mom and son day.  We got up in the morning, and I packed everything under the sun to be prepared for our day of adventures.  He rode around in the backpack carrier while we shopped for books.  He sat across from me at the table of the chicken-fil-a delightedly eating his chicken and yogurt, laughing and engaged in a pretend discussion with me.  He dozed as we made the long drive to the rural park where we would spend the day.  We scaled the playground.  We chased the ducks.  My son ate some duck pellets, so did the ducks.  We walked 5 miles along a beautiful river, feeling the fresh air and sunshine and letting ourselves be restored.  Blissful in this time of quiet engaged-ness with my son, I began to feel like Mom.  

After the 5 mile loop, we went back to the car, loaded up, and started home.  I passed back some crackers and water and contendedly we made the long drive home.  As we neared our neighborhood, a thought popped into my mind.

Oh.my.

I had not changed his diaper...all day.  That diaper was 8 hours in the trenches. 

I pulled into the driveway and knew what I was in store for as I went around to the side door to open it.  Grinning in the seat, was my soggy drenched son.  Wet through his clothes, and sitting in a pee-soaked car seat, was my urine-coated-happy-boy.

Here's to you Moms.  

I am not there yet.  But I am trying.