Stay-at-Home Mom * Mother of 1

By 5:30 AM, I was soaked to the bone with the exception of an area just big enough to hide a cell phone. The time change guaranteed an extra hour of dark peace, but an hour wasn’t enough to finish a Sunday morning in blissful anonymity.

Two and a half years ago, the mention of me greeting the dawn every day would have brought howls of laughter from everyone from my students, to my college roommates, to my nieces and nephews, but today it’s become a morning ritual of a year and counting. Forget the rain, snow, sleet and hail braved by the postal service; they get vacation and benefits. Despite the persistent “squee-gee” uttered by my shoes, I realize my biggest benefit was snuggled next to Dad, waiting for Mom to spend the day with him.

Discovering we were expecting was a welcome surprise, but when my husband and I decided to flee the scorching Phoenix heat for the cloudy skies of Pittsburgh, we never expected what storms were to come, like many couples, I’m sure. On the surface, we were set: my husband found a job, my teaching certificate in Pennsylvania was valid, and we had a place to live that wouldn’t break the bank if we couldn’t sell our condo.

The problem? I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving our son everyday, though we desperately needed the extra income. Friends and family were sure that a tutoring position or online teaching job couldn’t be that hard to find for someone with a Master’s Degree and five years experience in teaching and curriculum design, yet the hunt proved their optimism wrong as the economy started to weaken. I was offered a full-time position at the company for whom I was temping up until I delivered, but that meant an almost twelve-hour day with commuting, so with my due date fast approaching, I filled out the application to deliver papers. Twenty-plus years working, and I was trying to return to the very place where it all began.

Months passed, the baby was born, and still no other options appeared on the horizon.

Sleeping Beauty quickly learned to “re-appreciate” the wee hours in those first weeks after our son was born, and the fatigue was multiplied by two months of visits from doting relatives. The end of disability was in sight, and I still didn’t have a job lined up for the six week mark, much less daycare options in this relatively new city.

That’s when I got the call. If someone had asked me to schedule an interview at 6:30 in the morning at any other point in my life, I would have choked on my tongue, but after six weeks of sleeping in two hour stints it didn’t seem all that unreasonable; after all, that’s when the baby slept. I have a sneaking suspicion that requesting the interview be moved up an hour clinched it.

Now, if five-thirty rolls around and I’m not out, I’m unemployed, but I consider myself lucky. Mommy Power is what allows me to usher in Christmas with Santa and the reindeer and witness the Easter Bunny sipping that first cup of joe. Divinely-inspired Mommy Power is what I witness every day as I see the Mommies, Grandmommies and – yes – truly Great-grandmommies who only start their working day tossing the morning paper before heading to the day jobs that also support their families. So, I may be soaked, but on most days, I’m still smiling.

Writer / Editor * Mother of 3

It had definitely been “one of those days.” My four-month-old twin boys had been up all night – low-grade fevers and upset stomachs kept them from sleeping through the night. I stumbled out of the shower in just enough time to get them bundled up for day care and make their big sister’s lunch.

The four of us raced out the door. After dropping the babies off at day care and getting our eight-year-old to school, I was five minutes late for work. I was greeted with grief from my supervisor and an impossible stack of paperwork on my desk.

I struggled throughout the day to keep my eyes open and my mind on work. Finally it was five o’clock and the end of the day. Well, the work day anyway.

Our oldest goes to her grandparents after school, and I picked her up first. Then we went to pick up the boys. The babysitter and the grandparents had the usual bits of advice for me.

An hour later we got home, and were greeted by my husband who wondered, “what’s for dinner.” I snapped back, “Whatever you go and pick up!”

The babies started screaming – they were starving. I got their bottles and fed them, while my husband went and got dinner. He and our daughter ate while it was hot and I kept feeding the babies. Then it was bath time for the three kids, time to do laundry and time to pick up the house. In between there was another feeding, diaper changes and getting a snack for our daughter before putting her to bed.

At ten o’clock I started feeding the boys again while my husband went to sleep because he wasn’t feeling good. One of them was fussy and I lost my patience. As I started to yell at the boys to just go to sleep, they both smiled at me.

I melted. With my mommy power kicking in and getting a recharge from those smiles, I scooped each one of them up into an arm, snuggling contentedly with them in the chair until they dozed off. Putting them in their cribs, I looked back on the day and couldn’t wait for the next.

Stay-at-Home Mom * Mother of 2 (plus 1 more on the way)

Being a mother is a powerful thing. It can transform a scared little girl into a confident woman. Although I was 24 when I discovered I was pregnant with my daughter I was still a child in many ways. I had just recently finished college and even though I was married having children was the last thing I was thinking about. I wanted my life to be free and uncomplicated. I was ready to focus on my career. However, god had different plans for me. I was going to be a mother. What had initially devastated me and brought me to tears quickly became the biggest blessing I had ever known.

When my daughter was born I felt like a hopeless mess. What did I know about babies or raising a child? I soon found out empowering motherhood could be. I took great pride in my child’s growth and development feeling overjoyed about my new role as a mommy. I quickly realized motherhood was the best thing that ever happened to me. Challenging as it can often be, it is more rewarding than I could ever have imagined. I am now the fearless mama tiger, a strong and self assured woman. Now I know I can do anything!

Stay-at-Home Mom * Mother of 3

I peeled open an eye and listened. It was fairly silent with only a few faint sounds of birds whistling. It was a little too early for my taste. Birds really need a snooze button or an occasional cup of coffee before heralding the dawn. All that to the side, the point is my home was quiet. Not a single child was yelling my name or moaning over any bodily need or issue. I did it. I thought; I finally did it. I woke up before all three of them. I’ve often craved the preemptive strike approach to children; however, mine have always been extremely early risers. I’ve read so many articles and life coaching books referring to day management or discipline, but for me, the fives just don’t come easily. I had always been a night owl until children. Now, I find I’m not a night owl nor a morning dove. I’m more of a mid-morning cockatoo. I come alive after my first cup of coffee and have a burst of energy which has me doing and saying strange preschool motions and songs. The point is, most days I start a little behind the game. This day was different.

I climbed out of bed and wrapped myself in my giant terrycloth yellow bathrobe. Long gone were the days of anything silky or smooth. I found my comfort in my yellow terrycloth bathrobe with its beautiful hot chocolate stains on the sleeve. This robe knew me. I mean it knew me inside and out. It had been a sojourner on this trip through life. It stretched with me through all stages physically and metaphorically. It was there for three pregnancies, multiple night feedings, and many not showered yet conversations. If it could speak I can only imagine the level of intense accountability it would offer. I’m glad it can’t.

Walking into the kitchen, as this billowy mass of yellow, I reached into the pocket and discovered them. They were better than gold. They were the golden tickets. They were the passes to peace, to calm, and to sanctuary. They were pacifiers. Beautiful pacifiers just resting in the palm of my hand, made me immediately think two passies in the hand are better than four on the floorboard of the van. I learned a long time ago with pacifiers it is feast or famine. Slipping the treasure into the kitchen drawer, I knew this was the moment for coffee and my personal quiet time. My bag of Dominican cocoa coffee stood out as if it was my very own crystal ship. Smooth coffee was exactly what I needed, a vacation into depth and leisure. The only problem that existed between the drink and me were child labor laws. My limited web search indicated there could be an issue of indentured servitude in the coffee industry. It certainly did not indicate this particular brand had any involvement but with each sip it became a conflicting scene between taste and a bitter realty of the world out there. In my extreme social advocacy mode, I had debated tossing the bag. It would be my statement, my anthem. This would be a bold move, a stand for social change-even if no one knew except for me…and my bathrobe, of course. Another slow sip and there it came roaring like a building storm and shaking the rafters of the roof; from upstairs it shot down and pierced right through my morning solace-Mommy!!!!!

The Cockatoo showed itself a little earlier than usual and I flew up the stairs. I looked at him and we held a long stare. I went for it. I took the plunge head first. I was going to beat any moody morning blues he was planning to project on me. A song erupted from the depths of my soul. I belted out an emotional purge of manic preschool magnitude in off key horror “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” I was just about to hit my ultimate soprano with “You make me h-a-p-p-y…” and then from the heights of glory I plummeted into his stoic stare. He returned my song with the monotone words “I wet the bed.”

Quickly, I hustled him into the bathroom and turned on the tub water. The commotion stirred the baby and I heard a frenzied “mamamamamamama” from door number two. Door three opened. There stood my responsible, go getter type A eldest immediately discussing her future directoral debut which would require my assistance. With wide eyes at six a.m., she said, “Remember today is the day we make the Magic Tree House book, Good Morning Gorillas, into a screenplay.” Between the tub and entering the baby’s room I managed to reply, “Ofcourse, Gorillas in the Mist, how could I forget?” Slightly disgruntled, yet sympathetic towards her mother, she reminded me that mist was no where in the title. Same ballpark, I reasoned. No ballpark, she stated. The baby was happy to see me and he immediately wanted into the tub with big brother. While stripping the bed sheets, I knew it was going to take some supernatural power to get me through our entire busy day. After all, it was only the beginning.

The morning continued in its usual fashion. We had breakfast, spills, non stop conversation, tantrums, some bickering, two time outs, spills, an extra tubby, some tantrums, playing, laughing, singing, some tantrums, dancing, and more spills. Yes, like the shampoo bottle that says wash, rinse, and repeat; we repeat many of our cycles. After all of that, before us lay the final frontier. We had to make it out of the house, to the grocery store to purchase our contribution to the teacher’s appreciation fruit basket and then onto a meeting at church, all within the next hour. My eldest, miss responsibility, made sure to be at the front door promptly holding her fashion forward seven year old style purse. Talking all the while, she informed me of the contents and purpose behind every item in the bag. I never realized the need for an extra free real estate key chain as possible bribing incentive for the middle child. Apparently, she had thought about this and was prepared for any future inclement temperament. My middle son appeared at the front door with socks removed. He passionately explained that the socks I had chosen earlier were too thick, too short, and had an uncomfortable string that bothered his pinky toe. I took a deep breath and thought again, I’m going to need some supernatural power to get out the door. My sock search began and ended with thin beige worn out dress socks crammed into firefighter boots. As for the baby, he is the third child. Easily enough, I slipped his sister’s shrunken pink socks onto his feet, threw sneakers into a diaper bag and we were on our way.

After a car seat tantrum, a fabulous rendition of On Top of Spaghetti, and an in depth analysis, as to, the whereabouts of Max and Ruby’s parents we arrived at the grocery store. With two boys in the racecar cart and a miniature adult pushing a ‘customer in training cart’, we hit the produce section. With jubilee, we pretended to be scared of the storm raining down on the lettuce. I felt so happy because in spite of every obstacle, we were doing it. We were some how transcending time. We were going to be on time today. Then something happened between produce and register which changed the course of the day. I can still hear myself saying it in a slow deep voice like a drawn out movie soundtrack, “How did your brother get that banana open?” There was now banana on his eyebrows, in between each finger, in his ear, and even a bit on his pink sock. There were no balloons at the register. And then the final blow, “I have to go to the bathroom.” We were so close to the finish line. I saw it but now we were moving in the opposite direction, to the back of the store, to the bathroom.

Eventually, we left the store and I accepted the realty of being late. We began to play eye spy, sing a rousing version of Victor Vito, and as I crossed four lanes of traffic to make a left turn I was still able to comment on the magnificent bubbles being blown in the back seat. I thought, wow, there is a supernatural power that is getting me through this day.

We made it to the church meeting, obviously a few minutes late. As we walked through the parking lot, I smiled at my group. Purse in hand, she led the parade. With her brother behind her ,carrying the free key chain that indeed was used to bribe him out of the van, and my baby toddling next to me in pink socks I felt the greatest satisfaction of my life. We passed a sweet older women that looked our way and with her eyes beaming she said “happy children, happy home”. It was the sweet affirming reward that confirmed my previous thoughts throughout the day. I had been operating in Mommy Power.

Mommy power is the art of sewing together the fragments of life, the broken pieces, the mundane, the simple, the unnoticed, with the special, the miraculous, the awe inspiring realties of life. It is the gifting of taking the very obstacles and stumbling blocks and using them to build a future. It is the very thing that creates security, love, and acceptance. It establishes a child’s individuality and brings a child into harmony. It allows a child to stretch, grow, and reach. It is the very thing that touches the deepest levels in a child’s heart. It is the love that creates esteem and promotes imagination and endless possibilites. Mommy power creates hope and instills something eternal in children. Mommy power sheds light on a single ladybug or makes magic out of a ninety-nine cent bottle of bubbles. Mommy power can produce a bandaid out of thin air or a penny for a wishing well. Mommy power finds its way into every avenue of beauty even in a little parking lot. When I realized the mommy power I had been operating under, an anthem of joy arose in my heart because it meant that every mismatched sock, every skinned knee, every sigh of impatience, every love note, every lost baseball glove, and every quiet sleep well kiss was a precious and perfect note in the symphony of motherhood. With a peace and contentment that surpasses all understanding, I stepped into that building with the deep gratitude for every day that I’ve been equipped with mommy power. And I already looked forward to the next day that I would wake up exhausted and ask for another dose.

Stay-at-Home Mom * Mother of One

I read all the baby books. I watched TLC’s Baby Story over and over. I talked with my friends who were already moms. But it was really true; what they said. Nothing prepares you for being a mom and the worries that go along with it. Before I was discharged from the hospital a nurse came in to take my beautiful little girl away to perform a hearing test on her. When she came back 20 minutes later I could tell by the look on her face the results of the test were far from good. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The nurse said she failed the hearing test twice. How could this be? What does this mean? Does it mean she can’t hear at all? I took one look at my daughter and tears started pouring down my face. I immediately thought the worst and felt a rush of fear, pain and sadness. I had always pictured my husband rolling me out of the hospital with a huge smile on my face carrying my daughter. But instead, I was holding her and tears were pouring down. This was not what it was supposed to be like. The first week home with my daughter was very rough. I tried not to worry. I tried to have faith. I tried to enjoy being home with my baby but I kept on thinking about her failed test. Two days later she failed the hearing test again in the pediatricians office. They said they woud retest her in a week and may just have some fluid in her ear. That possibility is not what kept me going. What kept me going is mommy power. Mommy power gave me the inner strength to have faith in my daughter and taught me from the start that being a mom meant that life was now unpredictable and full of worries but also much more rewarding and joyous than it ever was before. Sure enough, a week later she passed her hearing test. It is mommy power that got me through that rough patch. It is mommy power that helps me believe.

Stay-at-Home Mom / Writer / Teacher * Mother of 1 * Make Over Mamma

I didn’t know that I had any Mommy Power inside of myself (or ever could) until my very first day of motherhood. After spending my entire life torturing my own mother (as the baby of five) and thinking I would do everything differently from her… I have now realized that my greatest goal in life would be to give my own children even a portion of the childhood and foundation that she gave us.

 I have tried to make a living off of helping other mothers, and connecting with women during this crazy time in life. As a former personal trainer, I founded a variety of mother and baby fitness programs in my area, taught family and post-partum health classes as adjunct faculty at colleges nearby, and founded the website Makeover Momma for all busy, budgeted mothers out there. Yet, none of these jobs have been more demanding, challenging or rewarding than the proud title of full-time, from-home mother to my three-year old daughter.

 Perhaps the hardest part of my motherhood journey thus far has been dealing with sickness along the way, and trying to fix my health (without affecting my family). After being diagnosed with celiac disease years ago (my daughter was diagnosed months later), it has been a struggle to deal with the aftermath of years of malnutrition and poor health (including accelerated hearing loss, requiring the soon-to-be use of double hearing aids), and the latest diagnosis of fibromyalgia. Even though it has taken a great deal of Mommy Power to deal with so many things at once, I still feel that I haven’t even touched the surface of what millions of mothers handle on a day-to-day basis (including my own!)

In the end, it seems that Mommy Power is something that keeps building and growing inside of ourselves- despite the odds- and seems to hold no limits within every woman. And guess what? I’m going to need more Mommy Power soon, because we’re expecting our second baby girl this summer….here we go again!

Web Designer * Mother of 3 (minus 1) * Sweet Boutique Design

My Mommy Power story: I have 3 children, 1 very special little boy who passed away from Neuroblastoma in 2000 at the age of 2 1/2. The other two girls that I have are thankfully healthy are 7 and 2 and are everything to me. I’ve had many bad things happen in my life. Quite a few good things too. I was lucky enough to be able to start my own business a couple of years ago that I had always dreamed of. Not really the way I wanted to though, it made me really sad and I should have been happy. The reason I was able to do that was my father passed away (he was my best friend) and left me a small inheritance. I decided to be the best I could at everything at that point. Life is way too short not to and make the most of everything. So, I’ve been running a fairly successful business from home, take care of my girls, my husband and still manage to get dinner on the table most every night.

I’ve looked back over my life and thought I could have given up many times. MANY TIMES. For some reason I didn’t. I kept my faith, and knew my children needed me to be strong for them through bad times and good. My mommy power story speaks for itself, bad things happen, so do the good things, but I always try to take time for myself and make my girls feel loved. Somewhere, somehow, when things are at their worst, this mommy power kicks and takes over. I’ve been able to take things in stride and the lessons I’ve learned from loss, success, love, and motherhood have hopefully made me a better mom.

Mommy Power. I have 5 children. One is about to go to college, the other 4 are all ages 9 and under. I recieved a call to go out of town for 4 days for business. Normally this would not seem to be a big except that I had to leave the day after I was told. As all mothers know we are used to being in charge of all aspects of our childrens lives. So, I had all of their clothes laid out for each day. Notified teachers, schools and daycare that I would not be in town and my husband was in charge. (That is scary in itself). I wrote out doctors numbers, emergency contact numbers, and schedules of where each child had to be and at what time. Feeling confident that I had everyone in order, I left on my trip. My parents were helping with the smaller children while I was gone and kept a different one of them every other night. When I got back everyone looked exhausted. They were ready for me to get back home. My husband called me this morning and told me “I want you to know I appreciate everyhting you do in taking care of our children and household. I never realized how much you actually have to take care of until you were gone for those four days.” This to me is the what mommy power really is. So to all of you mothers out there If you want your families to know the real meaning of “Mommy Power” take off for a couple of days.