STEVE SMITH -- What’s Up?

Part of what I do for a living keeps me in touch with people all over the

country via e-mail loops. A loop is a group of people to whom you can

send a message once and have it delivered to other “loopsters” without

having to enter all of the individual names.

My favorite loop is the one for F.E.M.A.L.E., an acronym for Formerly

Employed Mothers At the Leading Edge. F.E.M.A.L.E. members are moms who

used to be in the work force but have chosen the much harder job of

staying home full-time with their kids.

Recently, one of the moms sent this story titled “No One Ever Told Me.”

The author is unknown, but the details are familiar to all. The story is

proof of a theory I’ve had for about 10 years: moms are different. It’s

likely to be something in the wiring, but moms are so much better at so

many things that are more important than those we dads worry about.

This is for all you moms:

No one ever told me that my body would be “different” even after getting

back to my pre-pregnancy weight. No one ever told me I’d learn to

function off of three and a half hours of intermittent sleep or that I’d

quickly learn the necessary skill of juggling things, such as calming a

screaming baby, taking a telephone call, picking up a toy-strewn house,

quieting a barking dog and starting a load of laundry -- all at the same

time.

No one ever told me it would take three times as long to leave the house,

that simple errands would become major chores, that grocery shopping

would become my definition of “an outing,” that taking a drive at 2 a.m.

to get the baby to stop crying could be acceptable, or that eating dinner

while it was still hot would be considered a luxury.

No one ever told me about varicose veins, hemorrhoids, aching arches or

insomnia, or that there could be so many self-proclaimed experts

continually telling me what to do with my child, pointing out everything

I was doing wrong. No one ever told me I’d very likely cry at the drop of

a hat.

No one ever told me I’d learn all the words to Barney, Wee Sing, Disney

and Raffi songs, or that I’d know all the character names on Sesame

Street, Little Bear and Blue’s Clues and at what time and channel the

programs could be watched, any given day of the week.

No one ever told me that hearing the words, “I love you too, Mommy,”

would make a bad day turn good in an instant, or hearing “I missed you

Mommy,” would make me feel so happy to be home.

No one ever told me how fun a trip to the zoo, a movie or even the

grocery store could be when seen through the eyes of a child. No one ever

told me how the smallest things, such as a child first noticing the dust

floating in a ray of sunlight or the raindrops dancing on the windshield,

could bring me so much happiness, or that they’d be the first things I

told my husband when he got home from work.

No one ever told me I’d struggle at times to maintain my own identity, or

that I’d need “alone” time only to find that about an hour away from my

child, I would be ready to go home again. No one ever told me I’d burst

with joy as my baby reached her earliest milestones; or that I’d secretly

grieve over those same accomplishments as they signified the departure of

my baby’s fleeting infancy.

No one ever told me I’d have a second shadow, following me around

everywhere. No one ever told me that before I knew it, my littlest shadow

would be independent of me. No one ever told me that time would move so

fast.

No one ever told me I’d appreciate my mother so greatly. No one ever told

me I’d come to reality of my own mortality. No one ever told me I would

be so overwhelmed, so awe-struck, so excited and so nervous when I

brought my tiny baby home.

No one ever told me my husband and I would reach a new level in our

relationship; something better than we’d ever experienced. No one ever

told me I could love another being so fully, so completely, so selflessly

and unconditionally.

On becoming a mother, no one ever told me I could feel so fulfilled.

To all moms -- foster, adoptive and birth -- thank you, and happy

Mother’s Day.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer. He can be

reached via e-mail at o7 stsmth19@idt.netf7 , or call our Readers

Hotline at (949) 642-6086.