“Mom! Where’s my stuffed dog?” my son cries in despair. “I can’t sleep without it!”
“I saw you put it on the couch.”
“Mom! Where’s my pink ballet shoes? I have to be at dance class in 20 minutes!”
“Shoe rack, second shelf.”
“Honey! Where’s the soy sauce,” my husband calls from the kitchen.
“On the condiment shelf, in the door.”
Moms are the finders.
We spend our days finding sippy cups, that last recipe ingredient in the pantry, and smashed Goldfish under the car seat.
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We find things we feared may never be found again: long lost sock mates, the Tupperware lid to match, and somewhere along the way, our sanity.
We find things that cause us pain: our suspicions turned out to be the diagnosis we feared; we find out one of our life dreams may not come true, and we find a LEGO in the dark with our bare feet.
We find things that bring us joy: the silver lining to rough times, our child’s hidden talent, and a new, unexpected hobby. We find out the joy comes with wedding vows, with the birth of that first child, and someday, we find out what it means to be called grandma.
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We find out our daughter loves her burger with all the fixins, whereas our son likes just plain meat and bun. We find out these things—by trial and error, by luck, or simply by years of practice.
We find out these unique details about those we love—and then we use that knowledge to make everyone around us feel special, loved, and known.
It’s even become an expectation. As the saying goes, “It’s not lost unless Mom can’t find it.”
We are the finders.
Therefore, we teach others to also become finders.
We teach our children to find ways to be self-sufficient.
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We help our spouses find fulfillment in life.
We enable our community to find strength in times of crisis.
We lift up other women to help them find their voice.
We are the finders.