Frog Mama

This year I have gained a broader, deeper repect for women. In order to comply with the biological urgings to bring children into the world, they must put up with some crazy shit. Sure, they are built for it, but it’s still crazy the changes they must endure. The hormonal changes alone have made me want to mop floors and give more foot rubs. If I could breastfeed, I would.

Watching Heather become a mother has been almost as profound as watching Leta come into this world. This is a woman who, every single day gives her entire day to her daughter. This is a woman, who every single night wakes at least twice to feed her daughter. This is a woman, who, in order to insure that her daughter will remain sleeping, will snap fingers at a pacing husband who is talking on the phone too loudly and still love him for momentarily forgetting that the baby is asleep and will cry for an hour if woken. This is a woman who does laundry EVERY SINGLE DAY.

There isn’t anybody else that I could begin to imagine as the mother of my children. And I don’t want to try. And come on, the genes she has given our frog!

Heather, Happy Mother’s Day! By God you’ve earned it.