I can’t tell you who I am without first telling you that I’m a mother.

I have four growing people who depend on me. It’s the stage I’m in, and, currently, it defines me. My life is a mix of laundry, carpool lines, dance classes, sports practices, homework battles, sibling squabbles, late-night chats, endless snacks, and more laundry. The  diapers are mostly behind us–except the overnight kind–but the chaos has just shifted into a new form. It’s a wild, messy ride, and I love it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

As mothers, we know that the most ordinary days can hold the most beautiful memories. Each detail can hold so much meaning. Like the way he twirls his hair with one hand while holding a bottle with the other. Or the little feet that cross while he nurses. The way she lines up all of her books in a particular order along the edge of her crib. The blankie that’s been everywhere and seen everything. I’ve lived those moments with my own. Now I see her tying her shoes with such fierce determination. Or him sprawled across the couch with a book, lost in his own world. The way they argue over the front seat (they aren’t even big enough), or the quiet pride in her eyes after a game. Every stage has its magic.

All the while, we know that time is fleeting and the moments are lost. I’ve felt how fast it slips away. He won’t twirl his hair like that forever. The blankie will be forgotten one day. Before we know it, we’ve blinked and our babies aren’t babies anymore. I want to remember it all–the early years and the ones I’m entering now. I know you do too.

That’s why I’m here. That is why I do what I do.