The loneliest job

I took to the yard a few weeks back, trying to tidy things up and enjoy some of the day’s untimely sunshine that’s been so hard to come by this spring. There were a hundred and one jobs that needed to be tackled, but it seemed I was the only one who could see past the ball field constructed in our yard.

From the porch, I watched for a moment those two little sluggers who kept hitting and rounding and yelling out the score. It made me smile to see them playing together, sibling rivalry aside, joining forces in like uniforms to help their chosen team win yet another World Series. It wasn’t until I ventured further into the yard that I smelled, rather than saw, this game up close and personal.

Apparently, a ninety-pound lab with a healthy appetite, and a very clean colon, can really wreak havoc on a backyard ball diamond. She doesn’t understand fair or foul territory, and it seems she quite favors the base paths. I suddenly knew which of my 101 jobs I should tackle first.

So, as I stood in between home and first, during the seventh game of the World Series, a shovel in my hands, loading up that plastic-lined, five gallon bucket, I thought to myself, “This has got to be the loneliest job in the world.”

Indeed, the loneliest on a list of lonesome, labors of love we mothers take upon ourselves for the sake of our children. But this dirty job is not alone. He has many friends who come to visit from time to time. Some stay for a day; some for a week. Some drop by so frequently we wonder if they will ever leave our children alone and give us, the overworked mothers of the world, a break.

Allow me to acquaint you with some of our friends.

Laundry. The Bermuda Triangle of raising kids. The Black Hole of motherhood. Give me another year or two and I’ll put this spiraling out of control, never-ending, natural disaster on their to-do lists.

Holding a sick baby. There aren’t many things worse than a child giving you the wide-eyed look, the whimper, and the dry, gravely cough that tells you whatever’s left down there is about to come up here, and there’s not a thing you can do but hold them tight and help them aim for the bucket.

Maintaining a working vacuum. Between two boys, a dad, a dog and a stringy-haired blond, we’ve killed half a dozen of them. Where are those Rainbow guys when you need them?

Separating squabbling siblings. I hear it happens more often as they get older, but for now it usually stems from the little one wanting to do/be just like the big one. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” Yeah, that kinda flies right over the head of a five year old and as of yet, hasn’t done much to defuse any situation.

Grocery shopping. We went from being unable to afford the things we wanted, to buying everything we wanted because we finally could. After the kids came, I’d get so excited about a trip to the store because it was the only thirty minutes of “me time” I’d had in a week. And now? It’s just another lonely endeavor. Everyone complains when there’s nothing to eat, but nobody’s quite big enough to help out.

Quelling a fever. Definitely one of life’s loneliest jobs, leaving a mother feeling powerless but for the small consolation that comes from a cool rag, a simple rocking chair and a comfy lap.

Having to say “No”. I never wanted to be anybody’s “yes man,” but it’s no fun being the "no mom" either. However, I just can’t seem to get on board with the idea of Cokes and candy bars as meal replacements.

Answering the unanswerable questions. “Momma, are you gonna die?” When will you die?” “Do Mommas die first and then their kids?”

Sending my babies to school. While I’d give my right lung to get them outa my hair for an hour, I’m not sure I’m prepared to turn them loose on the world. Seven hours a day, away from the protective eyes and ears of their mother…how will they ever survive?

Still, with all of this, we mothers wouldn’t have it any other way. Oh, we’d take an on-call nanny or a full-time maid, or even just a couple extra hands to fold laundry on those really lonely days. But we’re moms. A sisterhood of the toughest, brightest, most resolute minds in the business.

Yes, shoveling dog poop may certainly be one of the loneliest jobs in the world, but it’s also a lot like life. Even though sometimes we find ourselves standing in the middle of a lonely, stinking mess, it’s a lot easier just to clean it up…before it gets smeared all over the bottoms of our feet. Besides, what else would a good mother do?

And that’s All in a day’s work!