The Day a Stranger Told Me I Am a Good Mom

A four hour flight with a 4 year old as your seat mate can be a long four hours. We were on a red eye, so bedtime was smack in the middle of the sky. It was also my bedtime, because, let’s face it, there’s really nothing better than sleep after an extra long day weekend of constant travel and activities. So the deal I made with my 4 year old was iPad until “bedtime” and then it would be time to go to sleep. She agreed, and I attempted to steal away a few precious moments of rest. But

“Mommy.” The sweetest voice rings out to me.

“I don’t know how to do this part.”

“Mommy.”

“Want to see what I just did?”

Part of me groans. I was just falling into the blissful void where exhaustion floats away and sleep takes over. Jolted out, I was inclined wait it out and see if she figured it out herself. Maybe she won’t need me after all. Maybe I could fall back...

“Mommy! Look what I just made!”

I open my eyes and peek over. She grins at me and points to the tiny animal on the screen eating a cracker.

“I am taking care of him!”

I smile at her. “That’s so cool! Remember, five more minutes until it’s bedtime.”

“Okay.”

Five minutes in the world of a mother and a 4-year old is equivalent to whatever period of time happens to be of advantage to the mother. In this case, it was likely fifteen. At some point I am roused by enough anxiety of what might happen tomorrow, on a school day, with such a late bedtime, that I tap her on the shoulder.

“It’s bedtime, Love.”

To my surprise, she swiftly turns off the iPad, hands it to me, and snuggles down into my lap. In my head, I pump my fist in achievement and leap into the air. I gently place my arm over her little body and close my eyes to the constant hum of the airplane.

The man next to us in the aisle seat is a hip, young guy, who initiates bits of conversation near the end of the flight. He shares that he is a photographer fighting his way into the Austin market. He tells me about a recipe app he likes, and hands me his card in case I ever need a photographer. When we touch down, I slowly start to shift, my body stiff under the weight of a sleeping toddler. I do my best to gather our things while trying not to disrupt her until the last possible moment. As the man next to us stands up to start down the aisle, he turns to me, and says earnestly with a small smile, “You’re a good mom.”

And then he’s gone. 

Here’s the thing about motherhood. It is often a thankless task, an automatic one, something that we do because it is to be done. We don’t often stop to appreciate, or sometimes even notice, the moments that make it special. Because motherhood is constantly chaotic, nagging, and necessary. The stranger on the plane reminded me that sometimes it is the small, automatic things we do as mothers that are special. Those millions of moments trapped between desperation and complete overwhelm when our children bring out the best of us should be celebrated.

Because motherhood is hard. It’s grueling, annoying, overwhelming, frustrating and painful. Motherhood is being sucked into another dimension that sheds the skin you used to live in and gives you a body and mind that is fluid with the bodies and minds of your children.

Motherhood is a milestone in human development. Not every person goes through it, but so many of us do. During motherhood, the brain and body change in physical form and biological function. Like childhood and adolescence, matrescence is a period along a continuum of life, growth and change.

 Then why is it that a stranger’s kind words can have such a lasting impact? This man, as far as I knew, was not a mother himself. Mothers do this for each other as naturally as they encourage their own children. But the rest of the world? Sometimes it feels like mothering is taken for granted. But the fact is, every life has been shared by a mother.

 It's time for this to change.

Western culture, in particular, drives social norms that place great expectations on motherhood, yet provide this milestone very little support or recognition. Motherhood deserves to be recognized as a period of human development. It deserves to be valid and celebrated. It is time for the words of a stranger to not be so strange.