Ten Things I’d Share with Myself As A Younger Mom

I reflect a lot lately. I feel emotions wash over me with each wave of change, not the least of which is becoming an empty-nester. Grown and Flown. That’s what they call it.  

There are things I love about this stage of life. Scott and I have time together; we have a granddaughter. My kids are working toward their goals. They’ve added wonderful people to our family. I cook less;  the house stays clean. My to-do list is shorter. I go to bed when I feel like it. 

I know how this sounds to harried, young moms with kids who are yelling on the other side of the bathroom door. Or to overscheduled moms of grade-schoolers running carpools, supervising homework and cheering on the sidelines. Or to stressed moms of teenagers worrying about college admission exams, safe drivers and big-time life choices. 

You just want a moment. I remember once answering someone who asked what I do for myself. I paused and then said, “I slip into bed at night.”

You constantly juggle and stretch and feel like it’s never enough. Or that you’re not enough. 

Now that my kids are adults or transitioning adults, I find myself wishing for a chat with my younger self if she could squeeze me in. 

If she and I were together, I’d tell her, “Everything is going to be okay.  Yeah; it will be messy and difficult and exhausting, but things will work out.” 

So much of what a mom does gets undone; it’s repetitive and mundane. It feels invisible. Did anyone see the kitchen that was entirely clean for 5 minutes? Before the cereal bowl is in the sink? That someone ate 30 minutes after a big dinner? What about the laundry? Stacks of clean clothes are mixed up with the piles of dirty clothes, so the child dumps them all in the laundry chute. Or drop off and pick up; scatter kids and then gather them back home. Nothing seems to last. 

You know what lasts? 

This. This is what lasts. 

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1. The books you read, songs you sing, dance parties in the family room, they all matter.
2. The pictures you take and the ones you’re in. Yep. Keep doing that.
3. The feelings of love and acceptance and security you nurture. The encouragement you give, it all adds up.
4. The times you brave the snow, rain, 100-degree temperatures in 97% humidity. The time you were chasing toddlers at the baseball diamond and missed your son’s triple — he knew you were there.
5. When you laughed at the spilled spaghetti, you made it safe for your daughter to make a mistake. When you told him you loved him always and forever, no matter what, you made space for him to come to you with real problems.
6. Saying “I love you” and “Welcome home!” or telling her friends to help themselves to food in the pantry, that made a difference.
7. When you saw you could have handled the situation better and later apologized, you taught your girl how to admit a mistake and reconcile.
8. The year you sewed each daughter a dress and labored over each stitch? That was you trying-on your friend’s talent, then figuring out it wasn’t you. Stick to being you.
9. When your 16-year-old son gave you a hug on the basketball court — that was a mom payday. They don’t come regularly and sometimes not often enough, but remember the moment and know he gave everything he had.
10. Every moment you set aside your list to be present in his life or to see her. Every laugh, tear, prayer, carpool, pancake, clean sock, found cleat, wrong note, last-minute assignment, teaching moment: God sees it all. Your kids feel it all. (PS- Sometimes you need a breather. That’s okay.)

I see you, mama. You want to heal every wound, shield every hurt, protect every heart. You want to fill every need and give every opportunity. You’d give just about anything for your children. 

But there is this. That thing you’ve been suspecting all along is true. 

You are not enough. 

He is enough. For them. And for you. 

Take hold of His hand and don’t let go.