by Patti
The other day I was driving down the street, a little speedily, as usual, when suddenly the driver of the car in front of me hit his brakes. Of course this meant I had to do the same, and the result was a major lurching forth of my car. My arm automatically flew across the front seat to protect…. My gym bag?
What I had just done is the classic Mother Arm. No matter who - or what - is in your passenger seat, if you have to hit the brakes, your arm will fly across and form a barrier between the dashboard and that precious passenger, who might be a child, or a husband, or, yes, a GYM BAG.
Automatic!
One day last week I went to my neighbor’s house to pick up S after work. My neighbor got a new puppy a couple of months ago, and the puppy is still this magically delicious ball of floppy fuzz, so I couldn’t help but scoop it up and cuddle with it. As I held the puppy, I started talking with my neighbor about our girls, when suddenly I realized that I was rocking the dog. And not only was I rocking the dog, I was PATTING ITS BACK LIKE I WAS BURPING IT. I laughed about it, and pointed out to my neighbor what I was doing, and she told me that she, the mother of three kids, has also caught herself rocking the dog.
Just this past weekend I was at a wine tasting with Cathy, and having really enjoyed a sparkling Blanc de Blanc, I purchased a bottle. I handed the bottle to Cathy so I could put away my wallet, and once I was done, I looked up to find her gently rocking the bottle. Not only was she rocking it, she had also made sure that the brown paper bag that the sommelier had placed it in was wrapped snugly around the bottle; so not only was she rocking the bottle, she had also swaddled the bottle.
This innate need to rock whatever it is we are holding is something I call the Mother Sway. Would we ever see our husbands rock the dog? Hell, no. Would a man ever hold a wine bottle and sway it in his arms? I HOPE NOT. But I have seen countless mothers do it, and doesn't matter if it’s a human baby or a dog baby, or even a thing-- if it’s little and you are holding it and you are a mother, it will be rocked.
Automatic!
And what about the universal Mother Head Turn? This is what happens when any mother is in public and hears a distant “Mommy!” It doesn’t matter if your child is right next to you, or if your child is 10 miles away playing at a friend’s house; if you hear a child’s voice call “Mommy!”, you will turn your head.
Automatic!
These behaviors are mysteriously rooted in all mothers. And these mothers could be grandmothers who have not had babies in 60 years; it doesn't matter. The instincts are strong and vibrant and mark a mother forever. Most of all, these behaviors link us in an inexplicably wonderful way. The link reminds me that during the times when I might feel alone on the Mothership, somewhere out there in the universe, there are millions of swaying mothers flinging their arms across passenger seats and turning their heads to the sound of “Mommy!” right along with me.
Just this past weekend I was at a wine tasting with Cathy, and having really enjoyed a sparkling Blanc de Blanc, I purchased a bottle. I handed the bottle to Cathy so I could put away my wallet, and once I was done, I looked up to find her gently rocking the bottle. Not only was she rocking it, she had also made sure that the brown paper bag that the sommelier had placed it in was wrapped snugly around the bottle; so not only was she rocking the bottle, she had also swaddled the bottle.
This innate need to rock whatever it is we are holding is something I call the Mother Sway. Would we ever see our husbands rock the dog? Hell, no. Would a man ever hold a wine bottle and sway it in his arms? I HOPE NOT. But I have seen countless mothers do it, and doesn't matter if it’s a human baby or a dog baby, or even a thing-- if it’s little and you are holding it and you are a mother, it will be rocked.
Automatic!
And what about the universal Mother Head Turn? This is what happens when any mother is in public and hears a distant “Mommy!” It doesn’t matter if your child is right next to you, or if your child is 10 miles away playing at a friend’s house; if you hear a child’s voice call “Mommy!”, you will turn your head.
Automatic!
These behaviors are mysteriously rooted in all mothers. And these mothers could be grandmothers who have not had babies in 60 years; it doesn't matter. The instincts are strong and vibrant and mark a mother forever. Most of all, these behaviors link us in an inexplicably wonderful way. The link reminds me that during the times when I might feel alone on the Mothership, somewhere out there in the universe, there are millions of swaying mothers flinging their arms across passenger seats and turning their heads to the sound of “Mommy!” right along with me.
