I Know...

I know how to de-snot a child with congestion and teach them to sneeze into a tissue.

I know how to make a bunk bed in the middle of the night, in the dark.

I know how to make peanut-free, gluten-free, wheat-free granola bars... in case there are allergies at a playdate.

I know how to tame what looks like unruly ostrich feathers but what my daughter calls hair.

I know half a dozen ways to cure thrush.

I know how to be prepared, even for the unprepared-able.

I know how to soothe a sore throat and an aching heart.

I know how to move heaven and earth to get a toddler to the toilet in time, and I know how to forget my own bladder for hours on end.

I know how to snuggle a kid in just right so that they can sleep, no matter how far away from home and their own bed they are.

I know what it takes to get my whole crew of zoo animals through security at any airport, and keep them smiling the whole time.

I know how to stop a child, mid-swing, from hitting another.

I know how to roll down a grassy hill so that my four-year-old giggles in a way that makes the universe smile.

I know how to pick just the right kind of pink apples to bring smiles to the masses.

I know how to teach a child to tie shoes, fasten buckles, and sort out buttons so that they feel accomplished and capable.

I know how to pester a kid enough to make them start using their imagination and creativity rather than whining.

I know how to make lotion and house cleaner and laundry detergent that keeps the eczema monsters at bay.

I know how to manage a half-dozen lists in my head without forgetting any major things on any of them.

I know how to tenaciously protect my family from the chaos and loneliness of over-scheduling, over-committing, and over-planning.

I know how to coerce a fashionista into selecting outfits that mostly match without turning it into a battle of the wills.

I know how to repeat a single phrase hundreds of times without losing my mind, and only sporadically, my cool in the process.

I know how to get highlighter off walls and orange crayon off carpets.

I know how to make a bed so that a three-year-old can then "make the bed" all by themselves.

I know how to read a book in such a way that my kid wants to snuggle in, and have it read out loud and realize that books are important to life, not just Mommy.

I know how to get a child to beg for hummus and sushi and cabbage.

I know that I bleed love and foundation and PRESENCE.

I know that I can roar like a lion, saying stay-the-blast-away-from-my-kid-until-I-say-differently without uttering a single sound.

I know how to love fiercely, passionately, completely.

I know these things because I AM these things... and thousands and thousands of other seemingly insignificant events that make up the endless minutia that is motherhood.  I sometimes think I'm doing it all wrong.  I often feel like I've failed, utterly and completely, that day.  But that doesn't change what I know.  I know who I am.  I am the center of their universe, the answerer of questions, the thrilling part of the day and the keeper of the clean underwear for those that know what my heart sounds like from the inside.  I know I will often fail, and I know that in the end I am just me, but I also know that to them, just me is, literally, everything.