Jumping the Gun on Mother’s Day

I jolted awake a couple nights ago at the realization that this Mother’s Day isn’t just about my own mother. Shocking revelation: for the first time, the woman lying next to me is ALSO a mother!

I mean, I obviously understand she’s the mother of my son. But when I think about Mother’s day I think about long-time moms who wish their kids lived closer and called more often. I think about technology-challenged older women – “How do you Google so fast?” Women who are quick to remind you, dejectedly, that “things are so different nowadays.”

Bixie is not one of these women.

She’s young, drop-dead-gorgeous, and runs an edgy technology PR firm in San Francisco. She’s fashionably dressed and spontaneously dances like a 20-year-old at the drop of a hat. Even to commercials. Even to commercials with crappy music.

She methodically conquers Sunday’s New York Times crossword puzzle and she goes BANANAS when she gets a great deal on clothes or groceries. She watches Wheel of Fortune religiously and cracks up at Pat Sajak’s jokes, and she … and she … and …

…oh, Lordy. She’s a mom. No way around it.

My wife is all grown up, and she’s about to become a card-carrying member of the timeless sorority cherished by all on Mother’s Day. I fully expect to wake up on Sunday to see her hair in rollers. Wearing an apron. Shaking her head at the morning’s headlines.

But rather than wait until Sunday, when everyone and their brother is focused on their mamma or mother, I thought I’d preempt the occasion by pointing out today a few things that make me so fortunate and proud to know that Bixie is the mom raising my children.

To be clear: some of this will be *unreadable for a male audience*, but I don’t care. Truth be told, I’m writing this blog primarily for my family, and for my kids. Some day they’ll skim these pages and, well, I want them to know how their mother really was back in the day.

So, here’s how she is. She does the little things that make all the difference.

Let’s start with her nurturing disposition and comforting voice. After giving Gus a bath, she’ll scoop him up while he’s kicking his slippery legs and settle him into the soft, hooded towel stretched across my lap. I wrap him up and hold him close while she prepares his toothbrush.

She talks him through what she’s doing as she puts a dab of paste on the brush. Her voice is upbeat and comforting. Then she leans down and gently scrubs his baby teeth. He smiles and looks right into her eyes as she says encouragingly, “first the bottoms … good boy! … now the tops!”

The scratchy sound of the bristles scrubbing his teeth in the quiet bathroom (and the way she smiles at him) almost makes me wish I was the little kid wrapped up in a towel. Holding Gus close like that, his cheeks wet from the bath, my shoulders heave with laughter every time.

Bixie brings the love. She brings it strongly and she brings it always.

It’s the little things. Yesterday we were driving along the San Francisco Bay, right in front of Alcatraz, and she blurted out that she was “SO excited to take Gus to swimming lessons soon.”

She said, “seriously, I can’t stop smiling about it!”

And as I think about her excitement for Gus, I can’t stop smiling about her.

So many nights she gently rocked Gus to sleep, refusing to leave until the little nugget was sufficiently transferrable – that is, sound asleep – to his crib. Instead of complaining that she hadn’t slept, she’d say she felt bad that Gus wasn’t getting a comfortable night of rest.

It’s never about her. It’s always about him.

When she doesn’t know it, I sometimes watch my wife studying Gus as he plays. She gazes at him with wonder/surprise/joy and mostly amusement, and you can almost tell what Gus is doing by watching the story of his movements relayed in her expressions.

You can see him in her eyes. And you can see her in his.

Bixie, as some of you well know, has the kind of laugh that catches fire. When she smiles and cracks up laughing the room brightens and the plants perk up. Gus has his mom’s oversized smile and infectious laugh. His smiley eyes share her essence. So early in his life, they already twinkle with her joy and good humor.

I know he’ll some day see the goodness in people, because he’ll see the world through his mother’s eyes and feel it with her noble heart. I know he’ll grow up to be a person capable of feeling empathy, and that he’ll try to do the right thing. Not because he’ll get credit, but because his mom showed him by example that the reward is in the doing, not in the getting.

If you live your life in this way, it turns out sometimes great things happen. Small wonder Bixie is over the moon about her gorgeous little boy. It sounds corny, but I believe Gus is the gift she got for a lifetime of being such a special and giving person. He’s a present that crawled into our lives on pudgy knees and with clean hands; one that keeps on giving even as he keeps needing.

And my sweet wife will keep giving everything she’s got. To Gus, and to the new baby growing inside of her this Mother’s Day.

A person close to me once said the best thing a father can do for their kids is to love their mother. And if that’s the case I must be one hell of a dad.

Because I love their mother like crazy.