Moms Are Heroes Too

Yesterday was my oldest son’s birthday. As all the children do, he got to pick where he wanted to eat for dinner. Our go to pizza place was his choice. Later that evening as we settled into the restaurant, he did an all too familiar move: he slid under the table. He does this when he’s bored, mad or just being silly.

This time, his table shenanigans resulted in him smacking his eye into it on the way down. Great, an injury on his birthday! How many times have I told him not to do this? He cried and said that he wasn’t going to be happy for the rest of the day.

We tried to comfort him and distract him from the newly formed cut on his eye. The pizza perked him up and he began to feel better. When we got home, I told him we needed to get some peroxide and Neosporin on his cut and put some ice on it. “Not before cake!” dad exclaimed. Of course, we can’t ruin his mood before cake and ice cream.

As we wrapped up the birthday festivities, I announced that I was going to handle the eye. I was staking my claim. Normally all injuries and bruises are handled by dad. He’s Mr. Fix It. But today, as my not so little boy turned 5, I just wanted to rush in and save the day. I wanted to take care of him and be the one to fix it this time. Because one day soon, he wouldn’t need us to make it all better.

Dad headed upstairs with him and into the bathroom. As I saw dad getting out the first aid stuff, I felt pushed aside. “I want dad to do it,” my son said. As my husband told me it was no big deal, I was visibly irritated. My husband majored in Sports Medicine, so he gets into doctor mode at the first signs of trouble. I, not interested in being mature, said “I told you I could handle it. You’re not a doctor, but you play one at home!” It probably was not the best way to express my feelings.

Sometimes, I get tired of only being asked “what’s for dinner.” Or being known as the cleaner of messes and dirty diapers. The one who makes doctor appointments and goes to parent teacher conferences. Of course, all of those things are important and keeps the home running smoothly.

But I also want to be the hero to my children. I want to save the day and make the pain go away. To wipe away the tears. I want to patch them up and see the look they give their dad. Moms can be heroes too.

Defeated and not wanting to make a big fuss, I turned to walk away from my husband and son. Dad said “fine, you can handle it.” As I patched my son up and put the band-aid on, I really noticed how much he’s grown. One day, he will be bigger than me. His “heroes” will be sport figures or action stars. As I daydreamed of his future life, he was relieved to find out mom didn’t botch the job and everything would be fine.

This morning, as soon as I got my son up, he asked about his eye. As I gave him another round of Neosporin and a new band-aid, I told him his swelling had gone down and the cut looked a lot better. He smiled so sweetly and said “Mom, you saved me!” “Saved you from what?” I asked. “Well, you’re my hero. You saved me from this stupid cut on my eye!” he said. He then looked down sheepishly, knowing he maybe shouldn’t have been playing under the table.

My eyes welled up with tears and I gave him a big hug. It was my pleasure to take care of him I told him. Of course, there will be times he wants his dad to pick him up when he falls or gets hurt. I understand that and all kids need to see their dads as heroes and protectors. But it felt really good to wear the “S” on my chest this time, if only for a day. But as long as there’s not too much blood, because I get squeamish. Dad can definitely deal with that.

Featured Image Credit: Makena Zayle Gadient