Mom Code- an unspoken language

You know her.  Well, not actually…but you see her frustration, defeated spirit and confusion reflected from her blood shot eyes to your own heart.  There’s an instantaneous connection with moms.  Witnessing a mom struggle in the grocery store is a call to action. When she is juggling a crying baby at the checkout and you are able to help load her milk, eggs and that chocolate bar onto the conveyor belt, it speaks of understanding and’ve likely been that mom.  

Now that I am a mother I understand the mom code. There is an amazing level of communication that is unspoken between us.  Sometimes it is communicated by a look, exaggerated exhale, a tone of voice that is strained, and sometimes it is tears, lots of tears. There are things brewing beneath the surface and a situation can go from fantastic to frantic in nothing flat with these little creatures we are raising.

Mom code is kind of like a secret language that is embedded in each of us.  I’m not sure when it arrives.  If it enters us through the umbilical cord or if it is implanted in the birthing canal on the baby’s departure, this I don’t know…but it is there.  We have to pay special attention to it and listen closely because sometimes it’s too faint to hear over the nonsense happening in our own lives.   I guarantee that if you can look past your own short-comings you will be able to focus in on what you have in common with other mommas.  

I almost didn’t make a meeting that I was suppose to attend.  I had a wild week and if you saw my home in that instance you would know what I mean.  It was gross.  I figured, what the heck and said “peace out” to my mess and peeled out of the driveway to this mommy-meet-up.  I am SO glad I did!  I met a mom that morning that changed the course of my day.  She was overwhelmed. I’d never seen her before; she was new.  There were tears, she was feeling unequipped and she was on her way out of the meeting before it even started.  But you know what, she ended up staying, because of moms!  One mom noticed the fear in her eyes, and another recognized that she needed a little hand-holding (not literally, my hands sweat too badly for that and I’m certain that after age 30…hand-holding is just plain creepy.) Other moms welcomed this lady into their group as if she’d always been one of them. She was seen, she belonged.  And I think that is enough to carry us through.  

Remember moms need encouragement, too.  Let’s put an end to the judgment and be on the look out for ways to adhere to the mom code.