I have a confession. I want to be Wonder Woman! It’s true, I had the costume growing up, complete with head and wrist bands. I was so cool, I would spin around in circles until I got completely dizzy and then run off to conquer the World with my cape flying in the wind!
Now I am just a mom. I no longer have the cape or the headband, and spinning around in circles is something I do daily while trying to dress my children and get them off to school. As for conquering the world, I would be more than happy just to conquer having the whole house cleaned in the same day.
So that brings me to the question; what makes someone a hero? Is it Spiderman, Superman and Wonder Woman, fictional characters who take on a whole new look before they conquer evil? Is it Bible Man who uses the sword of truth to fight sin? Is it the real life firefighters and policeman risking their lives to keep us safe? Is it the child growing up in a violent home and deciding that as a parent they will break that cycle of abuse? Is it the single mom, raising three children and wondering if she will ever have a man to share her life with again?
My youngest son loves the Rescue Hero line of toys, and I am excited about this. I love that these toys are based on real life people who live their lives to do good every day! I love that this is who my children believe in as heroes. However, I must admit, I am a little sad also, because as mom, I want to be the hero in my children’s eyes.
But I am just a mom, a mom of two little boys and one little girl. And, although I do put out fires every day by deciding who gets to pick the movie, and I keep the peace by not letting sister put makeup on her brothers’ dinosaurs. I must wonder if they see me as a hero. Do they look at me and see the cape tucked under my stained sweatshirt and worn out jeans? Is the jeweled headband peeking out from under the hair I haven’t even had the chance to brush yet? Probably not, but I remember the one day I was a hero. One day the crowd roared and yelled my name so loudly the windows shook, the animals hid and I stood with my hands on my hips and my cape flying proudly behind me!
You see I don’t like bugs, but with children you must pretend and so I point out long squiggly worms on the driveway and call their attention to the tree frogs stuck on our back windows, the geckos hanging by our front porch and the armadillos that run by our back patio every morning. But even a superhero loses their cool every once in a while I am sure, so when it comes to snakes and roaches, I am anything but super.
But this one day while getting my children quickly dressed to run out the door, my oldest comes in whining that there is a roach in his bedroom. As I go in to bravely conquer this creature, I see my daughter crawling quickly behind me. I know that she would probably be able to catch it quicker than I could, and with the lack of fear that babies have it would be the baby edition of Fear Factor. Not that I was worried about her eating the roach but we couldn’t have HER being the hero, now could we? So, I block the entrance of the room with the baby gate and grab the first aerosol can I find in the cupboard. As I spray this very determined bug, I realize that Lysol is not going to kill him, although he does now smell good and is slightly less germy. Not wanting to crush him on our brand new carpet, I go back to the cabinet and grab the only other aerosol can in there. I climb up on the bed and bravely aim the can toward the roach and wish the spray would go farther. In the background I hear chanting. They are saying something, something I recognize, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” It’s my name! The crowd is chanting my name! All of a sudden I am in a coliseum full of people with my red cape held out before me battling a huge snarling bull. I see the bull scratch his foot back sending the dust flying making me cough (or was that the smell of the Off?). I hear the stomping of the crowd. I raise my hand and roar, “We will, we will rock you!”
Okay, so maybe it didn’t happen like that, but the roach rolled belly up and my three little fans screamed and cheered and jumped up and down because their hero battled a beast that day. As I shook hands and signed autographs, I kissed the baby and finished getting my kids ready for school. I beamed all day. The laundry folded itself, and the dishes reflected my smiling face. Then I picked them up from school, and they recounted the cool new things they learned that day. I tried to recall the goodness of the morning by reminding them of their fearless mother but to my sadness I was met with, “Mom, it was just a roach!”
My fifteen minutes of fame were up. So after dinner and baths, I went to my closet and hung up my cape and donned my warm robe. As my freckled face babies laid their weary heads against the worn out fabric that had been through pregnancies, all-night nursing and various illnesses, they looked up at me with sleepy eyes and said, “Thanks for getting the roach out of our room mom.”
So maybe I am not Wonder Woman but for a brief shining moment, I was a hero in the eyes of my children!
“Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” Romans 8:37 (NKJV)
© Kimberly www.coffeeandfaith.blogspot.com 2010