You are the one who knows the needy cry from the mad cry from the scared cry.
And you know just how she likes the spoon swirled around like an airplane in the sky.
The sucker stick holder.
And the one who tells him to grab his jacket, justincase.
And which bow she wants to wear on a Tuesday.
The one who knows which day she has hot lunch. And when she needs more money in her lunch account.
And you are the one who plants your bottom on the bleachers. In the rain. Snow. And summer heat.
And you know exactly why she’s doing it.
Where her tap shoes are.
Where his notebook went.
You know his favorite team.
And you sing her favorite songs.
The Shake It Off shaker.
The banana bread baker.
The cell phone taker.
And the one who worries more. Than most anyone else.
And the one who expects more. Than most anyone else.
The one who will always remember more than they’d ever want to know.
You are the see-er of her beauty.
And whose life is better because you get to know her.
You are a lover of him. And everything he is. And will be.
You are his mother.
You wonder, over and over, Am I what he needs? Or, Am I Enough for her? Because you forget, you surpassed enough for her the minute you held her for the first time. The second you breathed him in. That moment you knew you’d be sticking around. And that you were made to be his momma.
With all that you are and all that you do, for as long as you get to be, you are not only enough. You are far far more. Because YOU are his mother.