I take care of my children because I'm their mother. I want the best for them. When the baby is hungry, I nurse him or give him some age-appropriate food. When his diaper is dirty, I change it. When my 2-year-old is done with his business on the toilet, I wipe him. When his older brother picks on him, I intervene. When my 4-year-old finishes brushing his teeth in 5.6 seconds flat and rinses out his toothbrush, even though I have told him repeatedly not to do this, I put more toothpaste on it and painstakingly coach him (for the 82nd time) on how to brush all the surfaces of his teeth. (Sometimes I do this patiently . . . and sometimes not.) When the same 4-year-old asks me a question, and then another, and then another, and then another . . . I answer each and every one of them as thoughtfully as I can. I am Mommy. This is my job. I do it out of love for my children, not for reward or recognition. (And it's a good thing too, because some days there doesn't seem to be much of either!)
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