I’m writing this letter to all of you, because I am one of you.
With two little ones of my own, I know how your day is probably going.
It probably started with you making a breakfast that no one wanted to eat, wrestling tiny humans into their clothes, schlepping kids to the car and a cup of strong coffee. Very, very strong coffee.
Maybe you drop the kids off at school or daycare and go to work only to discover you have peanut butter in your hair and an Elmo sticker on your butt.
Or maybe you head back home to tackle a list of never ending chores including an endless pile of laundry and a trip to the grocery store to answer the question that plagues every mom, every.single.day - what’s for dinner?
You pick up the kids, you ask about their day (insert mumbled two-word response here), you cook (or microwave) a dinner you may or may not be proud of. You bathe them, brush their hair, sing to them, read to them, tuck them in and kiss them goodnight.
And before you know it, the house is eerily quiet, and another day has come and gone.
Maybe you are tired. Maybe this day you feel defeated. Maybe there are times you think - It didn’t used to be like this.
You used to have time for yourself, your friends and your hobbies. You used to be able to pee in a room all alone and eat something - anything - without sharing it.
And then maybe you realize you’re right - It didn’t used to be like this.
You used to go to bed without hearing tiny voices say ‘I love you, mommy’, and bear hugs around your neck. You used to be clueless about the significance of a living room dance party or small, chubby fingers grabbing for your hand. You never knew then that a dandelion, given to you by a smiling toddler, could be more beautiful than a bouquet of two dozen roses.
And then maybe you feel guilty for ever thinking about peeing or eating alone.
Being a mom is hard. Some days we feel like Supermom, completing a super crafty Pinterest project while our made-from-scratch casserole cools on the counter, and other days a toddler Walmart meltdown and canned ravioli are on the menu.
That’s just life.
No, momm’in ain’t easy. From the day our children are given life, we become natural worriers. We worry they aren’t eating enough or too much. We worry they aren’t hitting milestones. We worry they won’t EVER sleep through the night.
As they grow, so does a new set of worries - making friends, grades, peer pressure, bullying, dating, driving…their future. And according to my own mother, the worrying never ends - even when they are adults with children of their own.
But perhaps some of our greatest worries come from within - did I make them feel loved enough today? Should I have handled that situation differently? I am setting a good example for my children?
We pray, we breathe deeply, and we do the best we can.
So, this is for every mom who is constantly worried she isn’t doing it right - every mom who has ever felt unappreciated, tired or broken.
This is for every mom quietly humming the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song, rocking yoga pants and driving a minivan covered in cracker crumbs.
This is for every mom who juggles a full time job and a family, desperately racing from one place to another, and only being late half of the time.
This is for every mom who has made the decision to stay home with her babies which, in every way, is also a full time job.
This is for every mom who is nursing, formula feeding, or both - and is constantly being judged for it.
This is for every mom whose children are graduating high school this year - every mom whose heart is slowly breaking at the idea of their children not needing her as much.
This is for every new mom enduring exhaustion, spit up, diaper explosions and a zillion late night Google searches.
This is for every mom whose children are grown, but will never stop being her babies.
This is for every step-mom who chooses to love and nurture another child that isn’t hers by blood.
This is for any woman who stepped up to be a mother to a child that needed one.
This is for all of us.
Happy Mothers Day to my fellow mommies. It’s our day to celebrate all of it - the good, the bad and the messy.
So prop your feet up, enjoy a strong cup of coffee, wear those yoga pants with pride, and know that today and every day, we are all rockstars.
Editor (& Proud Mommy of Two)