How Mothers Evolve

by Jerry Bullock

An old saying strikes a chord on Mothers Day, "A man may work from sun to sun but a womanıs work is never done." Some would corrupt the meaning as an aspersion on the role of the women: yeah, ha, ha. Women never get their work done, ha , ha. The saying comes from Americaıs age of agriculture. As the sun rose the men folk were up and headed to the fields. Their stomachs were full. Hot biscuits (home made), eggs, bacon, grits, a stack of pancakes and lots of molasses greeted them when they came into the kitchen. Mother was up and bustling around long before the gentlemen stirred in their warm feather beds. When the sun went down, it was not long before the men were snoring while mother cleaned the kitchen, did all the chores and somewhere around mid- night made her way to bed.

Today is not much different. We still are largely a patriarchal society. More, if not most, women are in the work force and husband and wife leave for work each morning at about the same time. The routine, however, in many homes is different. Mom is expected to have breakfast ready and get the kids off to school. Dadıs job is to get ready, eat and go. The return is much the same. Mom is expected to have a supper on the table, to have the kids under control, and to make sure the house is neat and clean and "Oh, by the way, I have invited the boss and his wife to dinner."

Mothers are among my personal heroes. They are way ahead of any celebrity or sports figure. Even Tim Duncan and Tony Parker are several steps behind moms. My hat is off especially to the stay-at-home mom. I donıt mean anything bad about those who go to work; many must and they do the best they can for their children. They recognize the sacrifice they are making to earn a living, but where it is possible I especially appreciate the sacrifice of those who choose to stay home. I admire the stay-at-home dad as well.

Mothers evolve. For example:

Her clothes:

1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your Ob/Gyn confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.
The Baby's Name:
1st baby: You pore over baby-name books and practice pronouncing and writing combinations of all your favorites.
2nd baby: Someone has to name his or her kid after your great-aunt Mavis, right? It might as well be you.
3rd baby: You open a name book, close your eyes, and see where your finger points.
Preparing for the Birth:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother practicing because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your 8th month.
The Layette:
1st baby: You pre-wash your newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?
Worries:
1st baby: At the first sign of distress-a whimper, a frown-you pick up the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your 3-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.
Activities:
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.
Going Out:
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home 5 times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.
At Home:
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of every day watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.

Whatever stage your wife or mother has reached remember this is her day and honor her. Take her out to dinner, buy her a flower; just one red rose, anyone can order a dozen roses. As you go to breakfast hand her the rose and tell her she is the apple of your eye, the Venus de Milo (with arms), the most beautiful woman in the world, and pledge your undying love.

She may hit you with a frying pan; it is pretty early in the morning to be drunk. She will think you have gone crazy. Whatever, in the end it will be worth it. Make it a special Mothers Day.