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I am a mother. As a man pointed out to me the other day, not only am I a mother but I am a breeder as well. I breed girls and can only hope and pray that one day my breed will stand with dignity and respect and serve this world and themselves in a way which makes life better.

I am also a maid, and a cook. A slave to the labors of taking care of my breed. I cook and clean and wash and do it over and over again to ensure their prosperity. Their clothes are clean and their bellies full and the house has some sort of order. I am the songbird that puts them to sleep, with words and hugs and kisses rather than music. The covers are straight, the night lights on. I am the alarm clock in the morning, and the fast food restaurant preparing lunches and breakfasts. I am the teacher in the afternoon who helps with their homework and ensure its correct. The older they get, the harder the work gets for me to understand so I research on-line exactly how to answer their questions. I am their shrink when friends disappoint them, when life is not fair and they cannot understand. When their hearts are heavy and their eyes are sad without words I know, and then I am their mystic. Reaching inside to pull out the fear, neglect, hurt, pain or emotion that has somewhat clouded their disposition. Trying hard to turn it around like a preacher does for his congregation. Making them less afraid. Giving them the courage to go on, and making them smile once again. I am the chauffeur whom without they would go and get nowhere. I take them home each night and put the black driving hat next to the apron and the shopping list. At times I am the cop, policing their behavior, phone calls and choice in friends. I am there to tell them No, to point my finger in the right direction and lead them to the proper path. I am a comedian when they need laughter, a pillow when they are tired. I am a doctor when they are sick, dispensing this and that to ensure proper dosage. I am the one person who can always find the thermometer and who wakes up just minutes before they throw up on the bed. I am Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and yet they still dont know. I am the mirror on the wall when they dint see exactly what they want in their reflection, I show it to them. I am a friend most days, a confidant for now, a soft place to fall, a hairdresser and wardrobe consultant.

As they grow, I grow into more and more of a mother. The days of rocking them in a chair as they drank from my body the only thing they needed to survive are slowly getting behind me. Up ahead, the road is curvy and uncertain. One thing for sure, one constant for these kids is that Yes, I am a mother. I am their mother and I will always be. Ever changing and constantly switching hats - I am a mother!

Learn more about this author, Stef Daniel.
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