No one becomes a mother for the recognition. I can think of about 159,231 jobs that would get me recognition without the broken butt, jello stomach, and on many days, utter frustration.
There's no "thanks for being a great mom to your kids" cards and no extra vacation days for a job well done.
People acknowledge your cute kids or little terrors, depending on which candy store or airplane you're in. They admire your stroller or sling, not necessarily the great taste that you had for picking it. And all this only occurs if people actually feel safe enough to come up to you because you know, you're a mom.
On my low days, when I'm caught on the merry-go-round that is the routine of my existence and my daughter begs and pleads for her "great daddy," I wonder about my relevance in this world as a mother.
It's a broken record in my head: It will go on without me. Someone can feed my son a bottle. Someone can play dress-up with my daughter. Someone can clean my house (oh God won't they clean my house!).
And chances are, they might just do a better job than me.
But in our blogs, we share these stories about our lives that to many might seem incredibly mundane, but to us, they are who we are and what we do. We commiserate at first poops in the tub, muffin tops, and hemmorhoids.
We reach out to each other when we need it most.
And we take what we think might be totally irrelevant about our lives, and make it relevant to someone else. Because while someone can feed my son a bottle, no one other than me can describe the feeling I have at 2am when I'm rubbing is round head and singing softly to him as he nurses back to sleep.
I may not be the best at doing it, but I'm the only one who can tell that story. And to him, I'm the best baby soother out there.
Sometimes that's what matters most.
But suddenly, mothers are a hot commodity. It's not just the bazillion celebrities making the baby-mama thing incredibly hip, but it's the realization by marketers that moms hold the power of buying.
Surprise! We are relevant!
However, I wonder if those people (not all, just some) that are banging down our doors are the ones who pass us on the street and roll their eyes when our child throws a fit. Maybe they could be the ones who ask to be moved away from the mother and her children at the restaurant.
Our presence, to them, is irrelevant.
But damned if they think our buying power as a community isn't relevant. These stories of mothering that we share daily are suddenly totally relevant to them, or so they pretend.
"We love your stories of poop would you like to try some free diapers?" [please please please because when you talk about them people buy them because mothers are a fucking tight knit community and our clients need you and your snotty nosed kids].
It's clear to me now that in this endeavor of raising children that we share, we're going to change the world. On many days, it does seem like no one cares. When our pictures are taken down and our videos are banned it sends the message that perhaps our presence is insignificant.
That perhaps my presence is insignificant.
But no matter how many times our kids reject us during the day, or that we're relegated to wiping up piss off the floor, we must believe within ourselves that our work is valuable. Regardless of how many PR flacks email you about their free diapers or your blog friends reassure you that you're doing an amazing job, you alone must believe it's true.
It's our legacy. It's our kids' legacy.
Mothers are relevant.
We are relevant.
For Deb and all my fellow moms out there who are feeling irrelevant today.