She's the kicker. The zing. The zest. The spice of our lives that's the best.
Yes, I'm subjectively bound by my immense love for this woman, but hear me out.
I remember holding her up as the morning wore on in what would become Beatrice's room, Mama leveraging gravity to bring Bea into our world, summoning a spiritual strength no man has ever experienced nor understood.
Exhausted, helpless and I frustrated, I selfishly channeled anger at those who judged us for not wanting children.
Unproductive as it was, I couldn't help it; then there was the flip-side of the red hot coin bouncing from ear to ear, those who judged us for wanting children.
Her labor welled again and echoed around us, bringing me back to the moment of Mama, midwives and the arduous journey babies have to make.
I don't want to disparage anyone, though; we love our family and friends and they love us and we wish our mothers the happiest of Mother's Days.
But when I watch my wife with Bea, full with Bryce child, I know she's all in, without compromise or complaint.
Empower yourself; empower others; be the lead.
Something she taught me that a long time ago. The Mama spice makes everything nice.
Happy Mother's Day Mama!
Mama brews the bonds of love
with B-soup spice, a taste above.
And in no other place we'd rather dine
than all as one, sipping Mama wine.