I’m the mom whose garage constantly looks like it vomited a Toys R Us into the driveway.
I’m the mom whose children pick out their own clothes. (Therefore ensuring that they never match.)
I’m the mom who is passionate about fitness, so yeah, I DO wear yoga pants. A lot.
I’m the mom that goes to Target alone to sip coffee and shop. Yes, I do in fact feel like it’s a mini-vacation.
I’m the mom who loves fiercely. Who will look at my kids and get choked up thinking about what amazing people they are becoming. And what a privilege it is to witness.
I’m the mom who sometimes gets lost in the to do list of laundry, dishes, and dinner, but eventually I find my way back.
I’m the mom who is becoming ever-more comfortable with the realization that I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, one of those women who “has it all together”. I tripped and rolled my ankle this morning walking from my front door to my car door. It’s a distance of about 4 feet.
I’m the mom whose role is ever changing as the kids reach different stages of independence.
I’m the mom who chokes back tears as he walks into the big school on his first day of kindergarten.
I’m the mom who still sits and waits because she’s just not ready to let go of my hand yet.
I’m the mom.
I’m their mom.