I know someone who’s way more Mom than most. In fact I’m married to her.
Way back in time – long enough ago so I don’t remember specifically when – my Debbie started taking care of kids. Lots of kids. Our friends’ kids. Kids from church. Kids from school. Kids from Little League. Kids.
There’s a cadre of kids – not all of them are kids any more – who have been lucky enough to have spent sizeable percentages of their childhoods in the company of my Debbie. She’s changed more diapers than a maternity nurse and wiped more tears than a mortician.
And it’s not just that she loves kids – which she does. If you have a kid and a job and you see my Debbie with kids you want her taking care of yours when you can’t. Many a parent has worked many a full day confident that their kids were in the very best of hands – my Debbie’s. They were at the library or at the park or at the church or at some other wholesome event she’d somehow found somewhere, but they were with Debbie.
We have four of our own, (one of ‘mine’ who’s always been hers too and three of ‘ours’) so our home has always been full. It’s even more so now, with Debbie nanny-ing for two lucky families and our daughter now carrying on Mom’s tradition. I believe either of Debbie’s current families would be thrilled to build a spare room and have her move in. They can’t have her. We need her here. I need her here.
Thank you Debbie for the full house. Thank you from all of ‘your’ kids over all of the years. Thank you from the many parents who could comfortably drop them and dash off to work. Thank you from the kids who really are yours, who like their father forget to appreciate.