One day, while we were watching "The Brave Little Toaster," Nathan turned to me and asked me how to spell the word "heart" (he seems to be at that inquisitive, everything.needs.to.be.spelled.for.me age.) I spelled the word for him and he looked at me and said "mom, you are my heart." What did I do to deserve that beautiful tribute from my eldest son? Nothing extraordinary, in the eyes of society, that is. But to Nathan--and most likely to Brandon, too--I'm the bees knees. And I remember my mom that same way.
My mom and I were very close--but also very much like oil and water. Maybe too similar for our own good in some areas. As I child, I didn't appreciate her like I should've; no child truly appreciates his or her mother like a mom should be appreciated. But after *my* first week of motherhood with a colicky, needy--but adorable--baby, I finally understood. I called her up in my new-mother-zombie-like state to say thank you to her for just being my mom. I'll never take her for granted again. She's my Supermom.
Nate and Brandon thank me everyday for being their mom. With random hugs and kisses, simplified yet beautiful drawings of our family and genuine love that only a child can offer. To them, I'm Supermom everyday and that's the best job I've ever had.