Muhammad Ali’s Reminder for this Working Mom

It was a tough week in the Corning household.  My work week was absolutely brutal, I spent the better part of Saturday cleaning up dog vomit, summer finally came roaring in with 119 degree temperatures in Phoenix, my nine-year-old son lost the state flag football championship by one point after going undefeated all season – oh yeah, and  I have my forty-something birthday to look forward to on Monday.  Dear eight-pound six-ounce newborn baby Jesus please help me.

First world problems you might be thinking and I get it.  But when you throw all this on top of the madness that is the typical schedule for us working mothers–practice schedules, late evening meetings, early morning meetings, fighting with children to shower regularly, planning and cooking dinner then having your children not eat it, fighting with children to eat something of nutritional value, dragging your ass to the gym when your alarm goes off at 5, fighting off feelings of guilt because you hit snooze and slept in until 6am instead of going to the gym for the last three days, realizing you haven’t had date night with your husband since the beginning of the school year and we are now two weeks into summer—I begin to feel like changing places with my third-world counterpart might actually be the better deal.

And as I am elbow deep in dog vomit and my own personal pity-party Saturday morning half-listening to CNNs tribute to Muhammad Ali it hits me: the crazy is worth it.  This icon died surrounded by his family.  Not his manager, banker, or super-fans but by his family.  In those sacred final moments of this man’s life he chose to spend it with his family chanting Muslim prayers.  It was just him, his family, and his God.  I’m not trying to make him out to be a saint.  He was a flawed human—as we all are—just trying to do the best he could.  And his best, when it came to the boxing ring, was incredible.  And though all the fame, flamboyance, and fighting will be the legacy he leaves to us, the public.  It’s not what he treasured most.  What he treasured most stood by his side as he left this world.  Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Ali.