WHITNEY: No one cares like your mother

We’re wrapped up in a hammock at a friend’s house. It’s an odd contraption made of nylon rather than rope, encasing us like a cocoon as we sink into it and lay back to watch the sky.

Or to hide from dragons, I guess.

Olivia is slouching down and pulling the edges of the hammock together, giving us what I imagine is the same view peas must have from their pods. And the dragons are coming.

“Mom, be quiet. Dragons comin’.”

And then… “Oh no! Dragons here! We hafta run!”

So we fall out of the hammock and run into the backyard, where the dragons seem to disappear because other kids are playing with bubbles and now it’s time to do that.

That’s the kind of tidbit I’ll excitedly tell my husband as we swap stories at the end of the day, when we compare notes on work, life and, above all else, our daughter. Is she growing out of her shoes? Do you think she ate enough for dinner? Did you ever figure out why she was upset with the cat?

“Did you break the vaccuum? Olivia said you did.”

“No. Olivia is a storyteller.”

And so am I. I love sharing stories about my crazy kid with anyone who will listen. But to be honest? My eyes start to glaze over more often than not when other people start telling me about their kids. Let’s face it — our kids fascinate us, but others? Not so much.

And that’s why we need to wrap our moms in love this weekend as we celebrate Mothers Day. Our moms care about the minutia of our lives in a way no one else possibly could. They are experts in our subject matter, and they delight in us with almost academic commitment.

They’re the keepers of our stories and milestones. They’re our living oral histories.

Don’t believe me? Call your mom today and ask her how old you were when you switched from crib to bed, or what your least favorite food was when you were 2. She’ll know the answers.

It’s easy to believe we’re especially remarkable. We have web presences and public personas, important jobs and impressive curricula vitae.

Trust me when I tell you this: Only your mother cares.

Your mom thinks your 4.0 college GPA is the mark of a genius. She thinks your 2.5 college GPA is a very good indicator that you tried your best (thanks, Dawn Gronski). Your mom thinks you’re a catch in love and life and in your career field and, heck, even as a small-talker in line for coffee. Your mom likes that artsy Instagram picture you took and wants to know how you turned it black and white (thanks again and I’ll show you Sunday, Dawn).

Now that I’m a mom too, I finally get it. Moms loves us like no one else could. They believe in us even when the odds seem stacked against us. And our moms deserve a hug today. Happy Mother’s Day.

Whitney Gronski-Buffa is the Pioneer’s parenting columnist. After four years reporting and editing at the paper, she’s stepped back to spend more time with her family. Read more here each week and reach her at whitney.buffa@gmail.com.