Mamapalooza

This coming Sunday marks the third Mother's Day in which I am an official participant. It's a teensy bit surreal to be included in that group of women who have had little people growing inside their abdomen. If I really think about it, usually while doing the dishes or folding sized 2T shorts and t-shirts, it blows my mind a little. I'm a MOM. It's staggering, really, what that short sentence holds within those three little, unassuming words.

Lately, the advertising gurus have really been pulling out the big guns and it's kind of ruining my mascara, but I'm okay with that. Hallmark's Mother's Day offering this year is a simple commercial with all these normal-looking (a.k.a. not supermodels posing as moms) women asking their kids to "tell them" that they're doing enough, that they've taught them something, that they've heard them, etc. It gets me EVERY TIME. And this morning there was another mom-related commercial (by Proctor and Gamble) which highlighted moms from other cultures/countries sacrificing for their little future Olympians. At the end it shows them tearfully hugging their kids who've just won gold and made all their sacrifices worth it. Cue the waterworks. (Conveniently, Proctor and Gamble owns Puffs tissues, which makes me wonder if this commercial wasn't just a pretty genius way to get me to need their product.)

Their tagline at the end is:

"The HARDEST job in the world is the BEST job in the world."

And, basically, that sums up the whole of motherhood. It's hard, but good.

If you haven't seen this, prepare yourself:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqODFzo-G2Q&feature=relmfu

TEARS. Don't be ashamed that you now need a Proctor and Gamble manufactured Puffs tissue to dry those eyes of yours. You've just witnessed some seriously moving stuff. And I bet you want to hug your mom right about now. And you're also probably wishing you'd been a bit more committed to those swim lessons.

I still can't quite wrap my distracted mind around the myriad of things it means to be a mother. I think if I could, I would be totally overwhelmed by the magnitude of this role I'm living and it's possible I wouldn't be able to bear the weight of it. But, luckily, I don't have the time to actually process what it means because I'm too busy doing laundry and making PB&J's and changing diapers and building miniature railroads.

What I do know is that each of my days is made up a million little things that don't have too much significance on their own, but altogether make up this immensely lovely reality of my being Sam's mom.

I'm more than a little lucky.