What being a mom really means (to me)

I’ve been around kids my whole life. Neighbors, cousins, friends. So I figured I knew quite a bit when it came time for me to have my own.

Jokes on me.

Sure, I had a good foundation of knowledge. But even full days of babysitting multiple children can’t prepare for being a parent of your own offspring. 

Being a mom is not glamorous. It’s not pretty. It’s not always particularly fun.

But here’s what being a mom is, at least for me, in this season.

It’s sitting next to a stepstool for half an hour so my toddler can climb up and down about a million times.

It’s chasing my daughter around the house trying to get some breakfast into her.

It’s taking a deep breath and facing the wild adventure of a shopping trip to multiple stores, hoping there’s enough toys and snacks in our diaper bag to keep her happy while I throw things into our cart.

It’s resigning myself to the fact that my floors will never be fully clean for longer than a few seconds … maybe ever again.

It’s not caring about the eyeliner she ruined, because she was playing happily in my makeup bag the whole time it took me to get ready.

It’s going to bed at 8:30 p.m. because she’s not feeling well and I know she’ll sleep better if I’m next to her.

It’s losing my cool because I can’t understand her incessant grunting and whining, then immediately feeling awful because she’s obviously trying to tell me something important.

It’s overflowing with joy when she wraps her little arms around my neck and squeezes as hard as she can, telling me in her own way that she loves her mommy.

It’s making a big deal over every accomplishment, no matter how small: a new word, learning how something works, helping with a chore, a nice long nap.

It’s chasing her around our kitchen table over and over just to hear her giggle.

It’s reading a paragraph at a time in my book, because that’s all I can manage before I’m interrupted again.

It’s daily gratitude that I’m blessed with such an incredible little person that calls me mom.

What does mom life mean for you?

Cheryl Hazelton

Cheryl Hazelton

I’m actually a Canadian, swept off my feet and across the border by my dashing husband, to the little house he built near Massena. We have a lively and joyful daughter, Cadence, who inherited at least a little of our stubbornness.
Cheryl Hazelton

Latest posts by Cheryl Hazelton (see all)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *