mothers are self-sacrificing creatures. we are on call 24 hours a day and seven days a week. we often neglect our own hygiene in order to be more present to our children. i once went a whole day without noticing blue play-dough matted in my hair, for example. we find ourselves being dragged into the least appealing places, like the port-o-potties at crafts festivals and those giant warehouses filled with moon bounces and other inflatables. and let’s face it: this kind of living takes its toll on the way we feel and the way we look.

but this post really isn’t about the mothers everywhere who are barely holding it together. this post is about the other unsung heroes who are risking life and limb (literally) for our children — others, who are also always on the job, covered in grime, and schlepped all over the place. this post is about our children’s other self-objects, namely their soft and threadbare must-have stuffed animals.

meet doggy (pronounced “goggy”):

“goggy” is the love of my younger child’s life. in the past week alone, “goggy” has been run over in a restaurant parking lot and covered from head-to-toe in poop (along with the crib, bumper, sheets, mattress, et cetera) during what i naively thought was my little bird’s nap time. consequently, “goggy” took a spin (albeit gentle) in the washer. “goggy” was missing for the majority of one day last week. my older child, the monkey, thought it would be funny to hide his brother’s smelly, furry, matted joy in a cabinet for the day. the bird was so beside himself that he could not nap. the monkey was so consumed with maniacal glee that he could not nap either. i spent the day turning the whole house upside down, because, as i quickly learned, a life without “goggy” (and sleep) is no life at all.

“goggy” just stretched out in the cool dark and made no effort to be found. i can’t say that i blame him. there really is nothing better than a spontaneous and much-needed vacation.