Happy Mother's Day to all the moms. Happy Father's Day to all the dads. I've only been a parent for two years, the greatest two of my life, and have a newfound appreciation for the art of parenting.

Moms wear clothes with multiple pockets, carry bags that are hybrids between a Bond Glovebox and the perfect "Let's Make a Deal" prepper bag. Always with tissue, aspirin, sunblock, hair tie (often used for purposes other than ponytails), safety pin, snacks, and other purse-sized items to be prepared for any event, emergency, or happenstance. Dads wear a Leatherman on their belts and ask moms to put their wallets, ball caps, and sunglasses in the MacGyver bag, adding a good pound to the mom load. The multi-tool is often more used than the extra Q-tips moms carry and are convinced will come in handy one day.

Moms have every second of every day planned with activities, meals, and accouterment down to coordinating socks and snacks. Moms have to run on a schedule; otherwise, the Jenga will crumble, leaving moms in heaps of disarray, mumbling something about it being time to make donuts. Dads always like to play the hero and throw in "lets go have ice cream," which throws the mom's brain into instant overload and panic re-routing. Sometimes moms need to eat the damn ice cream and enjoy someone else taking the reins for a short, concise period of time.

When Dads cook, they marinate, spice, and take their sweet time preparing family meals with love and generally an overabundance of flavor. It's ceremonial and should be started a day in advance. Families have to snack and sometimes fall asleep at the table when Dad cooks. Moms can have four burners going at once and can julienne, slice, and dice a colorful meal in no time with all the "As Seen on TV" gadgets she's collected. Total time from conception to digestion: 20 minutes.

Dads always drive and know how to change a tire, check the oil, and know which direction to turn the wheels when skidding on ice. Moms know how to call AAA, where the insurance card is, and the fastest route from A to B, yet don't know the difference between a quarterback and a carburetor.

When the house falls ill, the buck stops with mom. Moms are the ultimate nurturers, and family members are drawn to magic mom healing powers oozing from every hug, kiss, hand-holding, and back rubbing. In the post NyQuil sick-bed, Moms are at the bottom of the family flesh pile with everyone snoring in rounds and the dog farting on her head. Mom has a fever too, but everyone else comes first.

Moms and Dads, give yourselves hugs, high fives, and highballs. No matter where you are in your parenting, you are raising the future one day at a time, and though ultra rewarding, it's equally challenging. And always remember to thank your moms and dads, they walked in your shoes once, and you turned out just fine.

Sincerely me