In My Daughter's Eyes

Last week I went to Becca's classroom to be a "mystery reader". I showed up while the class was at lunch, and before they returned to the classroom, covered myself with a large sheet. The children were allowed to ask me "yes" or "no" questions to which I could respond by nodding my head. Once they figured out who I was, I took off the sheet and was prepared to read a couple of books to them.

However, before I started reading, the teacher asked me to tell the class about myself. "Hmmmm...what would twenty-two 7 & 8 year-olds be interested in knowing about me?" I wondered. I simply stated, "My name is Tricia Matis. I am Rebecca's mom. I also have a son named Isak who is 5. (thoughtful pause ) Ummm...do you have any questions for me?"

For a brief moment I thought, "Wow. This is depressing. I can't think of anything interesting to say about my life!" Then, a hand went up. "Yes," I aksed.

"What do you do?"

"Well, I'm a mom."

Another hand went up. "Um...I think she meant, what kind of work do you do?"

"Well, I work at home, as a mom," To which sweet Becca added, "She does a lot of work at home."

Then, Becca leaned over to me and said, "Tell them about the food you make."

"What?" I whispered back, confused.

"You know, the food that you make to take to people who need help."

"Oh."

And then I realized. I am more than the woman who cleans the house and does the laundry. I am more than the person who keeps everyone on schedule and makes sure that homework gets done. I am more than the chauffer who ensures that everyone is where they need to be.

I am a heroine. I comfort. I serve. I love. I take meals to people!

At least, I realized in that moment, that's what my daughter sees in me.

So, I turned to the class, with Becca smiling proudly at my side, and explained, "You see, because I am able to be a stay-at-home mom, and don't have to work outside the home, I have time to do things like prepare meals for people who are sick, have just had a baby or have lost a loved one."

I knew in that moment that I am being exactly the kind of mom I want to be. No, I'm not perfect, but in spite of my imperfections, my daughter is learning how heroic it is to be a mom who not only serves her family, but blesses the lives of those around her. I'm grateful for what she sees in me, for it inspires me to better - to measure up to what she sees in me.