Thursday, August 21, 2014

Erika L. Smith, M.O.M.

I'm a medical receptionist by profession.  Today I answered a phone call from a pharmaceutical rep who requested to speak with an MD, or an NP, or a PA, or an LPN.  Of course, because it's my job, all of the above were currently with patients unable to take the call so I offered to take a message or give a fax number that she could send any updated information to.  She asked what my position was.  My reply:  "I am just the receptionist."  She was very kind and said, "You are not JUST the receptionist.  You are the front office point of contact and you are very good at your job."  Unwilling to accept the praise, I laughed and said, "Well, I have no letters behind my name, unless you count M.O.M."  To which she in turn laughed and we went in a totally different direction with our conversation before hanging up.

Later in the day, my 17-year-old daughter texted me from work.  "I've had a bad day.  Wanna bring me supper tonight and eat down here with me?"  Sigh ... I still had to get through the rest of my workday, get groceries, make requested dinner, and a billion and one other things that M.O.M.s have to take care of.  It really would be nice to just go home to a quiet house and just BE for a few hours, especially since no one else would be home.  But for whatever reason, I  didn't make excuses and simply agreed.  I didn't think much of it at the time.

I got through the rest of my workday, went to the grocery store, came home, put the groceries away, made dinner (homemade chocolate chip pancakes as requested), packed the picnic basket, and headed to Daughter's workplace ... in a "raining cats and dogs" "beware of flash floods" thunderstorm, mind you.  Again, still not thinking much of it at the time.

Daughter works at the local old-fashioned soda fountain, less than a mile from home.  There was only one other co-worker there tonight and a family with two young children.  I set up our dinner on a table in the back and we began to eat.  The young mother walked by and said "That is just the cutest thing."  Or something like that.  Me, never being one to come up with a good comment when I need one, said, "Sometimes you just gotta be a mom."

I watched the young family as we were eating, as Daughter filled me in on her teenage drama-filled day.  And later I thought of a thousand ways I could have responded to that young mother.  I should have said:

TREASURE every minute ... they grow up way too fast.  And when your mother or any other mother tells you this, BELIEVE her.

Take the TIME to be with your babies when they ask, because the asking happens less and less with each passing year.

It breaks my heart to tell you that someday your little girl WILL NOT WANT to come here for ice cream with you.  She will not want to play checkers at the table with you and her daddy and her little brother.  She'd rather be with her friends.  ACCEPT the invitation when it is given.  Even if you have a thousand reasons not to.

LISTEN to that little boy of yours ... his crazy tales, his lame jokes, his young fears ... he needs to know that his mama will always listen ... to the little things that will evolve into bigger things as he grows.

And HE WILL GROW.  Until he is taller than you are.  And you cannot wrestle him to the carpet anymore just to prove you can.   Because you can't.

BE with your babies when you are with them.  It is hard.  Inexplicably hard.  Mamas have so much to do, so much to worry about.  But see them. Hear them.  Feel them.  Just for a few minutes ... until they run off to do something else and leave you to clean up the sticky ice cream from the table.

Always say goodbye or tuck them in at night with a KISS and a HUG.  Even if they protest. and always say "I LOVE YOU."  A lot.  Every day.  Even if one of you is angry with the other.  Sticky ice cream on the couch and broken curfews and hurtful words cannot negate your love.  Make sure they know that.  ALWAYS.

TIME IS SHORT, mama.  Trust me on this.  Know that the day will come when you are taking THE LAST FIRST day of school pictures outside the front door and you are wondering where these 13 years went and what next year at this same time is going to bring as you are leaving her at college.

TRUST ME, young mama.  This I know.  

But this I also know is part of being a M.O.M.  It's part of the process, part of the joy and the pain.  But mostly the joy, even when it is joyful sadness.  (Trust me, that's true, too.)

The above-mentioned pharmaceutical rep plans to call the office back tomorrow.  I hope I'm the one to answer her call.  I'm going to re-introduce myself as Erika L. Smith, M.O.M. ... and maybe the front office personnel that is really good at her job.


  1. Erika, I L.O.V.E. this. Such truth and wisdom, yet some days, I know I fail. I F.A.I.L. horribly. I don't absorb every moment, I act irritated to be bothered at times. I am too tired, for real. And sometimes, if I've had a bad day, it seems appropriate to brush of his/her bad day. Things I regret later, but as you said, the years like these are numbered, the months, the days, and the special moments too soon will end. Thank You for this reminder and encouragement.

    1. Oh, Bridget, I FAIL at this every single day. Not all day, every day. But moments every day. This was just a moment that I felt like I got right! :) I think the Lord just spoke to my mama heart to write about it - not for any personal glory or condemnation of any other, but as a reminder to my childrens' mother to strive to "get it right" a little more often.