Mother Love is Sharing your Pickle

“Mother Love” always has this reverent tone. Images that come to mind are a mother with a newborn, a mother by a sick child’s bedside, Harry Potter’s mom throwing herself in front of Voldemort’s Avada Kedavra Curse…

While all those things certainly illustrate the bond between mother and child, and selfless devotion, I’d argue that mother love is simply more…simple.

My most self-sacrificing act of mother love? Giving my beautiful, wide-eyed child my delicious dill pickle spear that came with my sandwich when we go out to eat. Simply because she likes it and wants it as much as I do.

Or maybe it’s all the nasty, gross… I mean healthy, educational trips we take to interact with farm animals.

Or perhaps it’s continuing to breastfeed and co-sleep with my little baby because she hates bottles and bassinettes.

Nah, that last one is a little too on the “reverent” side. Scratch it.

Morals, heroism, the law-many other factors can motivate us to do the “above and beyond” acts associated with mother love in literature or the media. It’s really the day-to-day sacrifices of comfort, of enjoyment (like a crispy pickle), of giving up one’s preference, that define mother love for me. Those unnoticed, unannounced, not-newsworthy moments.

Next time you see a mom trade her cheeseburger, or give up an aisle seat, or take her boys to see Monster trucks on Valentine’s Day-know that those moments are the ultimate mother love.

As for me? I’m keeping the video of taking my child horseback riding WHILE I was 36 weeks pregnant (no, I did not ride the horse, I just got to smell it *gag* and cheer) to show her when she’s older and claims I don’t love her because she’ll be 13 and angry about something.

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