When I am nine years old, my dad travels for work a lot. It's not what we're used to, and my mom puts up with a lot of shit from me and my siblings. She solo parents four kids (aged 12, 9, 5, and 3.5) for a year and somehow manages to not lose her sanity. My mom is a warrior. (So is my dad, by the way. He works hard to provide for his family. But this story isn't about that so you'll have to take my word for it.)
One day, the stomach flu hits our home. My mom runs from child to child, holding back hair, emptying buckets, encouraging sips of apple juice, and finally piles all the sickies into her own bed for the sake of efficiency. Because she is my mom (and if you know my mom, you know exactly what I mean,) she decides to sleep on the floor beside the bed so she can be with us as soon as she's needed.
Finally we are all asleep. My mom, haggard from the demands of sick kids, exhausted from parenting without a break, unzips a sleeping bag...and the metal zipper pull breaks and plunges into her finger. And gets stuck. My mom can't get the zipper pull out of her finger and she can't detach the zipper pull from the sleeping bag. My mom is home, alone with four sick kids, in the middle of the night, with a sleeping bag attached to her hand (in pain! Because, you know, impalement.).
I slept through the entire incident so I have no first-hand memory of it but as the story goes, my mom called our neighbour for help, she ended up in the emergency room where the staff told her they thought she was carrying either a sick child or a bomb into the hospital, the zipper pull was removed from her finger, and she was home in time to power through our morning shenanigans.
We joke about turning into our mothers but in my case, I kind of hope I do. My mom moves mountains for her kids. I want my kids to grow up knowing I would do the same for them.