If you were to scroll back through my old photos circa 2017–2021, you would see sweet little twins with perfectly braided “Elsa hair” who are probably wearing the same outfit, but in different colors. Next to them will be a squishy baby/toddler with hair that curls up at her neck and a big bow attached to an elastic headband — you know the kind. She’ll be grinning straight into the camera because she knows that’s what you do when the phone is pointed at you.
I get emotional thinking about it, and my heart aches for that time. I remember all the play dates, the parks, the crafts, and letting them make a huge mess while they assembled their own pizzas. I gave my whole self to them. Being their mom was my identity. And even though I was exhausted and not always perfectly happy, I knew I was trying to do all the things that a good mom does.
My pictures look a lot different now. First of all, there are not very many. I wonder why that is? My twins who are now almost 12 are no longer wearing braids. My only involvement with their hair is to remind them to wash it or suggest they take another pass with the brush when they are looking a little bed-heady. Finding clothes that they like and that fit their changing bodies is painful.
The squishy toddler is 7 now. She still feels like my baby, but she doesn’t have the same mom that the twins had. She has The Tired Mom. Not the mom who was always baking in the kitchen, or creating a neighborhood scavenger hunt. Instead, she has the mom who is hurrying everyone. The mom who might play a game of Jenga with you, but it will be while you’re sitting through a two-hour volleyball practice for the third time that week. The Busy Mom.
When they say “comparison is the thief of joy” they were talking about comparison to others. But comparing yourself to your old self can be soul-crushing. I really do try to practice grace, but I find myself struggling to balance the idea of grace vs. making excuses. Could I be doing better? I’m sure I could, BUT — thank goodness there is a but, that was getting depressing — if I think back to the early mom years, I did not think I was a great mom back then. I was actually really insecure. I was trying hard to be the mom I thought I was supposed to be. And even though little kids can be exhausting, my day-to-day duties were a lot simpler and more conducive to making things magical. We were home all day with no school. We had to find things to do and be creative. I had more opportunities to spend quality time with them, craft with them, and take them to the beach. If I hadn’t, we would have gone crazy.
We are in a new stage of childhood and parenthood. It’s not quite as cute or Instagram-able. It is pretty tedious at times. I have days where I spend close to four hours in the car getting kids to and from school and activities. No wonder we aren’t baking cupcakes on any given Tuesday! We have nights where we are up way past bedtime doing homework. And after spending an hour trying to relearn algebra so I can help my hysterical pre-teen, I may not feel good, but I am trying.
READ: Thoughts From the Car: The ‘Middle Years’ of Parenting
So the truth is, I am not the same mom I used to be. I’m adapting, learning, and surviving. I think I’m also grieving the mom I used to be. The one that got to create magic on any given Tuesday. But I am showing up the best way I know how to this new chapter of motherhood, and I’m hoping in five years I will look back at this tired, busy mom and wish I could be just like her.
