Soaking Up the Moments

Some days, motherhood feels like a marathon you didn’t train for. The kind where the water stations are filled with cold coffee, the spectators are screaming for snacks instead of cheering you on, and no one’s handing out medals at the end.

You wake up tired because someone had a bad dream at 2 a.m. or the 2-year-old started to sing his rendition of the ABC’s at 4 a.m. or your dog threw up it’s millionth pacifier that they decided was better than dinner…….or……..your brain just wouldn’t shut off. It doesn’t shut off because you’re constantly breaking down the events of the day before. Did I do enough, was I too mean, too quick to anger, should I have just read that last bedtime story they wanted so badly? Are my kids being nice and kind humans? Should we do more homework? Less homework? Why won’t they stop fighting? Am I a good parent?….and all the things in between.

Breakfast feels like chaos—spilled cereal, too many questions about the meaning of life before 7:00 a.m., someone can’t find their shoes, someone else forgot their homework. You’re running on fumes, answering “why” for the sixteenth time, looking around at the mess that somehow multiplies overnight, and wondering if anyone even sees all the things you do.

And yet… in the middle of the exhaustion, there are moments. Tiny, blink-and-you-miss-them moments.

A little hand slips into yours on the way to the car. Someone giggles so hard at a silly joke they can’t even breathe. The baby’s hair smells like sunshine after playing outside. Your oldest curls up next to you, just for a minute, like they used to when they were small.

Motherhood is relentless. It asks for all of you, even on the days you feel like you have nothing left to give. But buried inside the tantrums, the messes, the crumbs in the car, the endless questions and laundry piles, are the very moments you’ll ache for one day. The ones you’ll try to remember when the house is quiet, and no one’s asking you for another snack or help with math homework.

It’s okay to feel tired. It’s okay to need a break. But in between the irritation and the to-do lists, take in the way their laugh fills the room. The way they say “Mom” like it’s the most important word in the world. The way they still need you, even when you feel like you’re failing at it all.

Because one day, and this is something I need to remember on those tough days… I’ll wish for just one more mess. One more question. One more ordinary, exhausting, beautiful day.