MyThreeDaughters

The mother of today has come a long way, baby, to the point where she can bring home the organic humanely raised bacon that hasn’t been fed antibiotics, and fry it up in the pan.
But the basic elements of being a mother have not, and probably will never, change.
No doubt when I was growing up, I had no appreciation for what my parents pulled off. But now that I see it up close with my own wife, I have no idea how any mother pulls this off.
As a mother’s day tribute, I’ll list a few of the things my kids’ mom did this week:
Made sure homework got done, Monday through Friday (because in this day, kids have homework in first grade, but that’s another blog post rant).
Packed an insanely healthy lunch every day.
Monday: Made sure Fontaine took a flower out of the garden for “Teacher Appreciation Week.” (Teachers get a whole week, for some reason; Moms get a day, and in truth they get a couple of hours, maybe).
Tuesday: Cleaned up spills, wiped fannies, changed diapers, made lunches, picked up Fontaine from school, planned dinner, did laundry, then went to work and got home at 11 p.m.
Wednesday: All of the above, gave $10 of her hard-earned money for the teacher’s gift, wiped more fannies (I’m talking about our kids here), went to work for training, got home shortly after 10 p.m., then baked three or four dozen cookies until well past 11, for a fund-raiser for hungry people.
Thursday: Went to Fontaine’s school, with two-year-old Rosebud, made copies for teacher (which she’s done every Thursday morning all year) for an hour, went to the store, dragged kids around, bought snacks for T-ball, bought lunch for teacher for appreciation week, delivered it to school, got Rosebud down for a nap, went back to school to pick up Fontaine, let kids play in mud puddles, brought them home and gave them baths, had a clue about what we could fix for dinner.
Friday: Went running (why she came back, I have no idea), returned, made homemade macaroni and cheese for teacher appreciation lunch, delivered it, picked up Fontaine, went to work.
Friday night: Went to work for five and a half hours and served the demanding public.
Reward: A 30-minute Mother’s Day tea at pre-school and probably some hand-made “cards.”
I could do this, maybe, for one week, but only if I really had to, sure as heck not all day every week for years, and I’d be walking around cursing under my breath at least 50 percent of the time.
She never complained.
And a guy who hits a jump shot at the end of the game is a “hero.”