The kids got their report cards last week and I nonchalantly asked, "What if they gave report cards to moms? What kind of grades do you think I'd get?" Noah answered dryly, "Probably A's and B's."
Probably? And did you say B's?
Of course I know I'm not a perfect mother but I did not think my kids were on to that yet. I thought they'd give me all A+'s, right?
"Oh, is it because I don't always have candy in the house?" I joked because surely that was it.
"No, it's not that," he said. And then I changed the subject.
I haven't stopped thinking about it since. I barely ever got less than A's when I was in school - so this revelation is eating me up. But I wasn't ready to hear and I don't think he was ready to say.
My number one focus in life right now is pants. No other laundry matters more than the baseball uniforms and practice pants. If they've got a game tonight then they'll need their practice pants tomorrow, and vice versa. I will not let them down, they will have their pants. And socks. And jersey and where is your hat? Do you have your cup-gloves-helmet-water-fleece? Tie your shoes.
I might have some B's but I get perfect attendance, no doubt. I show up. They know it. Well, I don't know if they even know they should know it. It's not on their minds. I'm mom. I'm the background to their world. But they'd totally notice if I wasn't present and they would yell MOM! and search for me until I'm in their background again.
There are hard days with tests and we all struggle just to pass. But there are no grades and no report cards when it's the middle of the night and they come to find me, their home-base, healer, the place where they are safe. They always root to get as close as they can get to my heart. Maybe they can feel that a very important part of themselves is still inside there. And the only curve is my body to theirs. I am the grade. I am their gold star.