This last weekend, we celebrated moms.
Being a mom is hard work, so it’s good that we celebrate them. They are pretty important.
But I also have heard a rumor that being a mom is pretty fulfilling work. Somehow, between the late nights, the laundry, the messes and the noise, there is a lot of joy.
My wife and I have been trying to make her into a mom for a long time. But she worries that it’s not the joyful, fulfilling job that all the moms make it out to be. And I say, “Honey, look at the moms we know. They don’t go out to nice restaurants anymore. They have baby food stuck in their hair. They look frazzled and sleep-deprived. Their lives are by every measure worse now that they have kids. Yet they say they wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
That is amazing that kids can make moms give up everything and be glad to do it.
But I’ll tell you ladies something.
I’m glad I don’t have to be a mom. No matter what happens to me, I’ll never have to worry about accidentally becoming a mom.
And it’s not that I won’t someday help with midnight feedings and poopy diapers.
I don’t think I could take the sheer, competitive nature of the sport that mothering has become.