I know Superman and Wonder Woman

RJ is obsessed with super heroes, which is interesting since he's not allowed to watch "The Avengers" or any other super hero movie. He would flip if he knew my secret: I know Superman and Wonder Woman. I just can't figure out how they've always kept their capes hidden.

My parents crossed the state and back again for every hot, smelly, rainy, cold, and nasty swim meet I ever swam. My mom sorted hundreds of event cards into heats, herded water-slick 8-year olds to the starting blocks, and then made sure they all got the ribbons they were entitled to. Or weren't. Helicopter parents existed in the 80's too--one dad tried to steal ribbons for his kid. My dad hauled yards and yards of moldy shag carpet into the old wooden gym at the YMCA--we had to protect the floors from puddles while giving 100s of kids a place to snack, sleep, and play cards between events. After he did that, he stood for two days on wet concrete with a starting gun over his head. Or watched a million flip turns, disqualified 10 year olds, and bore the wrath of the angry mommies.

Mom wore t-shirts and shorts. Dad wore a white official's polo and shorts. I cannot for the life of me figure out where they hid their capes. Maybe they were at the concession stand under the chili crockpots.

Because a cape is the only way they did it. They have to be super heros.

My house is a wreck. I can't make it to one gymnastics class a week. And, this morning, RJ was late to the first day of summer camp.

Mom made the best birthday cakes; they looked like they came from a bakery. And if there was call for a punch bowl, she was there. And the punch was good. And on time. If I needed a costume, or a party dress, or just something pretty to wear to school the next day, the sewing machine hummed late into the night. And by the next morning, it would be hanging in my bedroom. Her cape must have been in the washing machine with the rest of the laundry. I never saw it those mornings.

My wedding was a feat of super hero proportions. 400 pink roses. Yards of satin and tulle. Twinkle lights.  She wore a beaded formal. No cape.

Every morning, Dad left the house before sunrise and didn't get home until dark. And somehow he found time to help a 15 year old girl restore and old car. Or rather, he restored an old car while a 15 year old girl sanded, scrubbed, and loved every minute they spent together at the barn working. Or whined that she was hot and greasy and tired. And loved every minute of it.

We spent a hundred hours on that car. I never saw the cape. He must have taken it off so it didn't get caught on the fan belt.

Hubbsie lost his ring in the yard at the old house. Two days before closing, Dad came down with a metal detector. And found the ring. He said it was a metal detector. I didn't see it. Super human powers.  No cape. I am convinced that he now keeps it in the trunk of his car.

This parenting thing isn't easy. There aren't enough hours in the day. There aren't enough minutes in the hours.

I never sleep. I never get all of the boxes checked on my to-do list. We've been in our house three weeks, and I can't get the boxes unpacked and the books on the shelves. Mom was here for two days, and the house looks like a home.  She still has her cape somewhere.

My son is obsessed with super heroes. Someday, I'll tell him I know Superman and Wonder Woman. Until then, I just wish they would they would tell me where to find the cape store--because life gets busier every day. And I hope that I can do as well for my babies as my mom and dad have done for me.

P.S. (I know they read this, so Thanks Mom and Dad!)