I Was There

"Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs in my field, since the payment is pure love." 

-Mildred B. Vermont

The boys have been learning to play the recorder in their music class in school. Every year, the music teacher puts on a little recorder program and allows the kids to show off their skills to their parents. It is a simple event, not very well advertised. The kids usually get to play for an audience of about five parents. I love being one of those parents.

It is one of the great joys of stay-at-home-momhood. The joy of having the option to attend any and all of your kids' events. Whether it's watching your daughter perform with a prestigious orchestra for a festival at Abravenal Hall, or watching your sons toot a most enjoyable rendition of Amazing Grace on the recorder, I love that I can be there. I love this phase of my kids' lives, where they are experiencing and learning new things almost daily.

I have come to understand that maybe the greatest gift a mother offers her child is her very presence. That a child can look up and consistently see the face of his smiling mother may be what gives that child self-esteem and confidence to explore the world. It is a confidence they need, not only as a toddler, but as a child, adolescent, teenager, and quite frankly adult. I can remember being there as my babies said their first words and took their first steps. I can remember their little faces lighting up as I gave them a hearty applause for their efforts. Those faces still light up when they see their mom walk into the music room for a performance they didn't even think she knew about. And those same faces beam as they receive yet another applause from that one-woman fan club who is so proud of them for masterfully playing Merrily We Roll Along without a single squeak.

I don't know what my children will remember about their childhood. I don't know how many of my little daily efforts they will even remember. But I hope that as they reach back into those far corners of their conscious, they will just remember my quiet presence. I hope that they will remember consistently looking up to see that smiling face in the audience. I hope they will remember that hearty mom-applause just a little louder than the rest. And when they reminisce about their shining childhood moments, I hope I can always say, 

"Yes, I remember. I was there."