Maternal Chord

It would seem as though I struck a maternal chord.

Soon after I published this post, I received a call from a close friend who lives in my community. She is a rock star mom of sorts, dealing with ongoing difficult circumstances in an exemplary manner that defies explanation. She has strength I’ll never have and is a humble, unassuming example of motherhood thriving in the middle of the trenches.

Like I said, a total rock star. Not to mention that she is well groomed in carpool line.

Even as I answered hello into the phone, she was already laughing. “That is exactly the way I feel and I just had to call to let you know. In fact, I am going to print a copy of your post for my husband to read so he’ll see that I’m really not crazy.” Her giggles intertwined with her own monkey fit story that included a Chick-Fil-A sandwich somehow thrown in the direction of her spouse’s head, mustard splattering in a way that left her momentarily stunned.

And I’ll admit, the two of us laughed at that little scenario until our guts hurt.

Throughout the day, I opened emails and messages that included statements like, “I feel like that ALL THE TIME.” Another said, “Did you write this just to make me feel better about my own fits?” And then this email, from an acquaintance through this blog, wrote, “I really thought that I was the only incapable mom. I’m so glad that you’re incapable, too.”

Thanks! I think?

Later that night, I received the following text from another involved and intentional mom, who always has a smile on her face as she juggles the demands of her own three children and any others that happen to find their way into her SUV.

“Transparency must not only be allowed, but encouraged," she texted. “Right now, I have laundry going because my son doesn’t have clean pants for school tomorrow. We all had different stuff for dinner because, dang it, we were going to church! I have about 40% of my life together at any given time. You need a monkey fit?! Come to my zoo. We can swing from the trees together. Anytime.”

Clearly, this friend was speaking my love language. I stood a little taller.

I headed to bed, smiling about the many responses that had come my way. I marveled at how encouraging it is to have someone relate, how comforting it is to know that you’re not alone.

But most reassuring was the realization that joy can be found even in the biggest monkey fit.

Sometimes it just takes a few funny moms to remind you.