It’s 2:00 AM.
I’m a toddler standing outside my parent’s bedroom door. Something doesn’t feel right. The weird gurgling in my stomach is now gurgling in my throat.
I barf. It’s awful. I barf again later. Who knows how many times I barf that night. Enough to develop a fear of barfing later in life.
Later that night, I’m laying on the couch watching The Jungle Book. My head is in my Mom’s lap. She is rubbing my back. I’m distracted by the movie but still helplessly moaning “I wish it was tomorrow.”
This is my first memory of my Mom making me feel safe.
She couldn’t stop the barfing. She couldn’t make me feel normal. But she held me in the middle of the night and kept me safe.
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Turns out, 30+ years and I get to see the Mom in my house do the same thing for my kids.
Middle of the night. Middle of the day. When they’re sick, sad, scared, or hungry. When she’s had no sleep. When life feels like a total mess.
She makes our kids feel safe.
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Cheers to the Moms.
Gratefully Dad 