Becoming Mo

Some mornings, I don’t want to sleep – I just want to stay in bed.

Not from tiredness. From weight.

But I get up anyway.

Because motherhood doesn’t pause for feelings.

Today, I dragged myself up, made breakfast, packed lunch bags, and for a moment I felt proud. Then the thought crept in: this beautiful lunch will probably come right back home untouched. And I sighed. Why do I even bother sometimes? Why not water, juice, crackers, and call it a day?

So many voices whispering.

On my second cup of coffee – right before the real chaos – I thought of those cartoons with one angel and one devil on each shoulder. How blissfully simple. I had at least ten of those angels and devils and others on mine, all different colours, all talking at once. 😂

Then came the daily battle: what to wear.

In my day, you wore what was provided – end of story.

My little one? She’s been curating her wardrobe and vetoing outfits since she was two.

The outfit planned the night before was rejected (of course), and I hit that tired place of just wear something – anything. Breakfast went smoothly, thankfully. Drop-off was quick. No hugs. No thank-you. No time for the emotional grown-up.

And yet, on the way back, I found myself smiling.

Because motherhood is strange like that.

It’s exhausting and thankless and deeply rewarding all at once.

It stretches you thin and somehow fills you up.

And the feeling after you’ve successfully “mommied” for the day, however messy or imperfect is quietly powerful.

To every mom who showed up today even when she didn’t feel like it:

You did something amazing.

Even if no one said thank you.