Mamas are heroes.

As I sit here writing to you, I am utterly exhausted. My forehead is pressed and indented by the cabinet that it rests on, as my fingers numbingly type these words.

The morning started with, "Mommy, I wet the bed," which ultimately meant I would have to add one more load of laundry on the day's to-do list. I grunted and headed for the coffee pot with crumb filled eyes.

The next half hour was filled with the regular routine: waffles in the toaster, peanut butter on the toast, rice cereal mixed with yogurt, two cups of chocolate milk and a bottle; paired with tongue-burning coffee -- gulped, not sipped. Lunches were made, kids were dressed, toys were picked up and dumped out again. The usual.

Next thing I know, we missed the bus.

So, I bundled up my three children, tossed on a hat and some Uggs and trudged out to the minivan.

Once everyone was buckled and ready to go, I turned the keys. Nothing.

It didn't start.

So I brought everyone back inside, added another layer of warmth, pulled out the double stroller, and we ran --not walked-- to school.

Did I mention I'm exhausted?

That's the thing about being a Mama.
It doesn't matter.

Whether we have slept, whether we are sick, whether our bones are broken or our bodies are aching-- it does not matter. The show must go on. Our children need us. They need us for the everyday not so big stuff, the life changing moments, and everything in between. 

And we put them first.
It's what we do. 

We wipe the crumbs from our eyes, we bandage our wounds, we grab a crutch, or a cup of coffee, and we trudge forward. We mend what needs mending, we do what needs doing, and we plod through the mud and mess that swamps our paths. And here is the wildest part- we smile through it:

because we understand what it means to love someone more than we love ourselves.

We are secondary.
We are needed.
We swoop in with magic kisses and encouraging words.

We save the day,
because Mama's are heroes.

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