Here’s what you really need to know about me: I’m a mother.
And I’m not the kind of mother who sits still while babies crawl between her feet. I’m not the mom who watches from the sidelines and hopes she doesn’t break a nail. I’m the kind of mother who gets dirty, who picks playing trains over doing the dishes. Who stops everything to watch a ballet twirl and then tries to twirl too. I’m the kid of mom who builds sand castles at the beach, who picks toddlers up and over waves to make what could be scary fun. I do impromptu photo shoots. I’m the kind of mom who pulls pack hair while little ones vomit, who has been puked on, who gives baths in the middle of the night, who wipes noses and faces and tears. I’m the mom who buys kids clothes and toys second hand, who isn’t afraid of a road trip with full car seats, who knows all the words to the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song. I do time outs and hug-to-make up, please and thank you, and yes ma’am. I’m the kind of mom who looks forward to nights off but cries when she goes away without them. I sing songs, play games, dance, laugh, and then laugh again. I’m that kind of mom.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The other day I read this line on Dare 2 Dream Dare 2 Do: “In those moments between not-mom and mom, two new individuals were born.” It’s the perfect way to say it. My children created me as a mother and as a woman, and I wouldn’t change that either.