Take a good look at the above picture. What do you see?
Yup, that was my one of my past breakfasts. Or, part of it. Well. That’s what happens when you’re a mum sometimes. When duty calls, you have to drop whatever it is you’re doing to respond.
If it makes you feel any better, the same thing happens to members of the police force, fire brigade, and emergency response staff at a hospital. Even journalists (in loving commemoration of the job I once held).
However, it does seem a whole lot more glamourous when people in the jobs I just mentioned have to respond to the call of duty. There’s an element of danger, a life at stake, a bizarre story to be told.
But wait a minute… the same applies to motherhood too. Let’s consider how.
Danger, danger everywhere
Look out, there goes that terrorising tot! Crash! Bam! Boom! You definitely need to get on the scene soon, otherwise there goes the sanity of the rest of the world. The piercing cries of a baby ought to be an element of torture imposed on hardened criminals. I bet they would repent, if deafness does not get to them first.
A life at stake
Yes indeed! The life of the baby concerned, no doubt. But there’s more. The unfortunate insect that ventured across the baby’s path. The unsuspecting dog whose swishing tail is oh-so-tempting to curious little eyes. Better make your move quickly, mum, or there will be blood. Mwahaha.
Stories of bravery and love to be told for generations to come
Oh yes. Who can forget those in-the-nick-of-time episodes where you swooped in to save the day? Well, very likely the victim (read: baby) you rescued will not remember it, but the rest of the family will, and it shall be preserved in the annals of time for posterity henceforth and forevermore to reminisce. You are a hero, without a shadow of a doubt, and you’d better believe it.
Okay, I guess I’m just trying to make myself (and you, my beloved reader) feel a little better about those middle of the night cries and unexpected calamities we face when our babies cry for our attention. Hehe. Hope the dash of humour here helped, even if just a little. Comeonsmileitain’tallthatbadsheesh.
In all honesty, being a mum of a 4+ month old baby, I’ve probably experienced far less than some of you senior mothers have since my dear Jamie has yet to master standing, crawling or walking. But I can foresee my dark and dismal future. Hence I am steeling myself in anticipation through writing posts like this.
Anyway, before I go, if by some stroke of luck you happen to be reading this while you’re pregnant and you have yet to name your unborn baby boy, please consider the name Gotham. Here’s why: