Another Trip Around the Sun: Birthday Reflections on Motherhood, Growth, and What Really Matters

This week, I celebrated another trip around the sun.

And like most birthdays in this season of life, it arrived with very little fanfare (I completely forgot about it until two days before).

The day itself was simple. I celebrated in small ways with people I love. No fancy dinners or late-night dancing. Though there was cake – there’s always cake. Quite a bit of it. And before dinner! My kids were thrilled.

Once I recovered from this momentary amnesia, I spent a bit of time reflecting on motherhood, gratitude, and what is becoming increasingly important to me. I’ve turned it into something of a note for myself to remember this instant in time.

And this last year? It was hard. And beautiful. And surprising. And filled with growth. Sometimes all in the same day.

First, the hard stuff

Motherhood is incredibly difficult – not because there’s something wrong with us, but because the system around us is broken.

We’re expected to work like we don’t have children, parent like we don’t have jobs, keep a home that looks Instagram-ready, maintain our “pre-baby bodies” (I think you probably know how I feel about that), nurture our relationships, practice self-care in our abundant free time, volunteer at school… and look good and have fun doing it.

All with less community support than any generation before us.

And of course, we want to be present and playful, but I have started to wonder if it is even possible. We’re too busy doing all the things, remembering all the details, finding all the left shoes, and carrying all the mental load – often with very little support.

When I lose my cool with my kids (and yes, I still do – the woman who teaches about mindfulness and nervous system regulation), I’ve started to recognize that it’s not just about me needing better tools. It’s about a culture that asks too much of mothers and gives too little in return.

Finding my role in all of this

I’ve spent a lot of time this year wondering what my role is in helping to fix this broken system. Activism? Policy work? Running for office? (Kidding. Mostly.)

I believe wholeheartedly in my courses, my subscriptions, all of it. But I recognize that even the most mindful mama, the most regulated mama likely doesn’t have what she needs. And mindfulness alone isn’t going to solve this.

I might not be able to single-handedly change our culture (although I’ll sure try to do my small part). So I come back to this: I know what works. I’ve seen it in my own life and in the lives of the mothers I work with. I’ve watched as simple tools for regulation, mindfulness, and intentional living have transformed overwhelmed moms into more peaceful, present parents.

Not perfect parents. Present parents. Slower parents.

Parents who enjoy themselves more.

What else I’ve learned this year:

Beyond the big existential questions about motherhood and society, here are a few other things I’ve thought about in the past few weeks.

It gets easier.

And harder. In new ways. My kids keep surprising me. We’re in the midst of the 7-year change with my little one and omg. His meltdowns have me looking at him like a deer in the headlights and his ability to look me in the eyes with the confidence of a world leader and say a flat out “No,” to my requests to brush his teeth before school have me questioning everything I’ve done as a mom.

I’m not used to this.

But my big kid is at a dream age. He loves reading and is constantly looking out for his little brother, me, his friends. He’s long and lanky and starting to look like a big kid but is still as sweet and cuddly as a little.

They both keep surprising me with how loving and sweet and silly and smart and and and…

I guess my point is that I am surprised at how it just keep getting better. I thought I’d miss the babyhood and toddler years. I do miss the chubby thighs and lisps, but they just keep getting more enjoyable and while I do miss parts of those seasons, this one, right now is the best.

Asking for help isn’t just nice – it’s necessary.

When my husband broke his ribs, when we lost electricity for days, when I had minor surgery – these moments forced me to ask for help in ways that felt uncomfortable at first. But the discomfort of asking was nothing compared to the relief of receiving.

I leaned more heavily on my friends this year, often last minute. And they showed up.

When it becomes difficult to ask for help, when internally, I’m thinking, “is this okay? Should I call Melissa? Will I be asking too much?” I force myself to ask if I’d say yes to the same thing. So, when I needed to take my husband to the ER on a Sunday morning, I thought, would I watch Max and Miles for a few hours if M needed to take John to the hospital? Yeah, of course I would. So, I ask.

Friends without kids are essential.

My two best friends (you know the ones you have an ongoing, nonstop text chain with?) don’t have kids. And it is one of the greatest gifts our family has. When they are in town, we play “B & G have thee mommies.” Which is quite literally the best game ever.

These women remind me of and allow me to reconnect with the woman I was before motherhood transformed me. They give me the freedom to just be me, with fewer worries, saltier language, and a much louder laugh. They’ve also given my kids the kind of attention that only people without kids can give. And, I get to sleep in when I spend the night.

Your body keeps track.

For the first time ever, I’m feeling the wear that comes with age. I feel a little stiff, I’m doing that thing that only “old people” do with the menu. And I am recognizing that if I want this body to last, I’ve gotta take better care of her.

Rather than saying, “yep, I do… I’m gonna start working out 5 times a week” (or even three). I got myself a weighted vest. It’s on it’s way now. I’ll wear it while I’m just doing my regular stuff. I have tried to fit in working out in meaningful ways for years and just haven’t been successful in the long run, so I am trying something new, that doesn’t require me to carve out any time. If you see a lady wearing a vest at Target, wave. It’s probably me trying to raise that heart rate and strengthen my core.

And, I’m going to say yes a lot more to my kids when they want to play physical games. It’s perfect timing for baseball season (I do love to play catch.) I’m on the hunt for a mitt right now. And we’re gonna get back to the skatepark (my newest and most awkward attempt to bond with my kids and teach them how to fail).

And yes, I really do need to floss

Because dental work is expensive and time-consuming, and no one has time for that. (Consider this your random health reminder.)

A spirit of gratitude

Another year…. A little wiser, maybe. Definitely more tired but also more certain about what matters as the seasons of motherhood continue to change.

I’m not doing this life perfectly (and depending on who you ask or what you want, maybe not even particularly well). But, I am doing my best, authentically. And, as I write this post, I realize that this past year has been one of the best. And it’s living in this spirit of gratitude that has made it so.

While I haven’t built Raising Slow to be the community that I still hope for and my consistency has left a little to be desired, I have done what I came here to do initially: Give myself a much needed peptalk and learn all of this with you.

And that’s what I’ve done. I’ve asked for forgiveness and forgiven myself for the lost tempers and unnecessary yelling. I’ve become a more values-aligned, slower, simpler mom. I have a little more patience (most days) than I did when I started writing to you. I’m creating micro rituals and I hope I’m building those connections I talk about.

My life isn’t what I thought it would be decades ago. Nowhere near. My 20-something self would be disappointed, I think. But, this 40-something me is grateful. All these bumps, imperfections, meltdowns (my own as well as theirs) have given me something all-consuming and exhausting but dizzyingly beautiful.

So, happy birthday to me. Here’s to another year, learning and growing together. Thank you for being here with me, for offering feedback, sharing your stories (and listening to mine!). I could not be more grateful to be on this journey with you.