Today is Mother’s Day, and so today I am reflecting on the last six years since I became a mom. Being a mom is the most rewarding, most exhausting, most scary, most wonderful job ever.

I come from generations of what I call Super Moms. I always strive to be half the mom my mom and my grandmothers were. Watching them as I grew up, being a mom looked so easy. Now reflecting back after being a mom, I wonder how they ever made it through the day.

My mom went to work when I was in fourth grade. However, I don’t remember her working. I remember her never missing a field trip. I remember always having homemade cookies in the cookie jar. I remember her being the leader of my girl scout troop or being my choir leader at church.

I can never live up to that. The bar is too high. So I do the best that I can and I hope that when my son, James, reflects back, he doesn’t remember me not being able to make it on the field trips because of my work schedule. I hope that he does not remember that the first batch of homemade cookies his mom made him was when he was six. I hope that he forgets the yelling.

I hope that he remembers that, no matter how tired his mom was, she was always able to listen to him read at night. I hope that he remembers that at Easter his mom always made sure he had an Easter egg hunt either at home, with his friends or at church. And some years we did both.

I hope that he remembers that his mom had as much fun as he did at the zoo. I hope that he remembers that, even though it would make his mom crazy because all the Christmas tree ornaments would end up on one side on the bottom, she let him hang them there anyway!

I hope that he remembers that every day, no less than one hundred times a day, she told him how much she loved him. I hope that he remembers that even though every time she cleaned his room she told him it would be the last time and next time he would have to do it himself, it never happened that way. She always helped him clean his room.

I hope he remembers how she makes his dad crazy because she can’t throw away anything his little hands have made. I hope that he remembers that his mom would color, play with play dough, do chalk art on the sidewalk, build forts in the living room, run races, hunt for rocks, sticks and sea shells and dance crazy break dancing moves with him.

I hope that he remembers that she not only let him stay in pajamas all day for “Pajama Day”  — but sometimes she participated with him.

I hope that he remembers that when he talks — she listened. I hope that he remembers that there have been times that his mom has had very uncomfortable conversations with people in attempts to keep him safe.

There is nothing that brings me more happiness than to hear my child tell me he loves me or “Mommy, you’re the greatest! Ever!”

So in that spirit, I want to wish all the moms or maternal influences out there a Happy Mother’s Day! And tell you, “You are the greatest! Ever!”