INDfamily

THE WILDER LIFE: Invisible Cape Society

by Amanda Bedgood

The Super Momma

For Halloween this week I dressed as Super Momma. Because I believe it may just take super hero epic size powers to pull this motherhood thing off on some days. I rocked that cape as a kind of shout out to my mommas in the mommyhood. Here's to you.

Here's to the mommas that feel like super heroes because that little girl is finally potty trained and every third night sleeps in her own bed (the whole entire night).

Here's to the mommas who work all day and momma all night. Who clean up the puke virus splatter then go to the office and work twice as fast for fear they're next to face the stomach plague.

Here's to the mommas that juggle it all with one on the way and look great with a made up face when they just want to hibernate. Who keep on keeping on so the kids they already have enjoy nights of trick or treating and never miss a beat.

Here's to the mommas that stay up late wrapping juice boxes like mummies and sewing super hero capes. Who show up and haul around other people's kids with a smile on their face even though they have a full van themselves.

Here's to the mommas that remind us that our little snowflakes will not stay so little so long. Who smile when my son touches everysingle thing in the room and sings too loud in public because it's "great to have a curious child."

Here's to the mommas that stay up late wondering about how it will all turn out. Lord, how will these children turn out?

Here's to the mommas who've had doors slammed in their faces and eyes rolled behind their back. Who have the nerve to say no despite the stomping and the tears.

Here's to the mommas who let their kids fall. And to those that know when to catch them.

Here's to the lullaby singers and the growth spurt feeders. To the carpool waiters and the Elsa-hair braiders.

What you do has value. It matters. Even when no one else sees. Especially when no one else sees.

People at Fall Fest this week asked again and again what I was. I wore a mini-cape with a pencil skirt and a Wonder Woman T-shirt that read "Yeah, I'm pretty super." I had messy hair and paint smears and stickers. A grocery list penned on my arm. A monkey backpack with a Cars lunchbox dangling from it along with hand santizer. And a bluetooth in my ear and my crossbody purse.

It wasn't too far from reality on most days.

While waiting in line for the pony rides it came to my attention a certain princess perhaps picked up some of the pony poo. I luckily had my wipes and hand sanitizer so very close and did a super sanitizing job to her delight. It was one of those moments that feels like a summary of all things.

Standing in line among thousands of eager children with a princess with pony poo on her hands and my son in a Clark Kent outfit with Harry Potter glasses (they were all I could find, man) and me in a cape doling out hand sanitizer.

Because that's what being a mom is all about. In the words of my friend even if my feet are paddling madly beneath the water things look smooth on the surface. And that's what being a mom is on some days. It's keeping it all together for the kids, holding them above the waves while you kick furiously to keep afloat. And doing it while smiling cheerfully and heating chicken nuggets in the microwave (oven, I meant oven - who feeds their precious child microwave food? Not you? Me, either.)

So here's to the mommas with invisible capes. I see you. I see you not assaulting your screaming child in the grocery store. And I see you working the checkout line when you'd rather be home with your kids. I see you juggling the boss and the babies. I see you in the nursery on Sunday. And at the Farmer's Market bright and early Saturday.

I see you raising tiny humans and wrangling hormonal ones. I see you doing the very best you can and wondering if it's enough. It is.

I see you changing the world one diaper at a time. It matters. Here's to you. I see your cape. I salute you momma. You are absolutely super.