You couldn’t pay me to be a mother to a two legged child- at least not nine months from now. Or eighteen months from now. And more than likely, not even twenty-seven months from now.

I get in on the weekends at four in the morning. Four. If I really want to party sometimes that gets pushed to seven. In other words- the sun beats me to my bed. Can you imagine if I had a child to look after? I can’t. Most week nights dinner is a oh-shoot-there’s-only-Vodka-in-the-fridge type scenario. Children require vegetables.

I see girls younger than me, with their own kids and I often wonder, “How the heck do they manage?” Some of them are students. All of them have at least one job. I don’t even know how anyone can go to school and raise kids. It seems impossible. College is for drinking and picking the wrong boyfriends.

Being a mother is the stuff that real super hero’s are made of. You’re responsibe for a human life. For bringing caring, thoughtful, and intelligent human beings into the world.

When I look at my two-legged child, I realize that Mother’s Day is about a choice to do those things. Every day I look at his sweet fluffy face, I realize that June 1, 2006 was the greatest day of my life. It was the day this little ball of wonder came home would not stop running through my apartment. The vet told me to leave him in one room and to slowly let him have full rein of the whole apartment. I didn’t listen. From the minute he came home, he goes where he wants, whenever he wants. He sleeps in cupboards or on top of the fridge.

While everyone else thinks today is a day to do laundry for your mom, I think for mommies it’s a day to just stare at your kids- be it two or four legged- and realize just how perfect they are.