Bits of lint. Crumpled wrappers. Dry leaves. All day long, I find myself collecting these items and stuffing them into my pockets. Crumbs, twist ties, tiny plastic figures, and scraps of paper—all are fair game.
I’m not a hoarder, a compulsive organizer, or a collector of trinkets. I’m simply a mother. More specifically, I’m a mother to a curious 1-year-old boy who explores his environment by tasting it and a 3-year-old girl whose collection of miniature toys exceeded what I thought was possible until her brother joined the mix.
Thus, throughout the day, I gather objects and tuck them away in my pockets to keep my little one safe. Often, I’m retrieving various bits from his mouth first, but then they go straight into my pocket. The trash can is in the kitchen, but somehow, this method has become more convenient.
At the end of the day, I dump out the contents of my pockets—each item a testament to the day’s tasks, highlighting the seemingly mundane yet critically important role of a mom. Because if you think about it, “mom” should indeed be a verb. Then, when someone asks, “How was your day?” I could simply respond, “I mom-ed all day.”
Ah, now it makes sense. You’re worn out, overwhelmed by affection, also filled with joy, and occasionally worried about losing your mind while marveling at the lives you’ve nurtured. Today was a blend of mom-ing—joyful yet exhausting, fulfilling yet draining. You might feel both connected and lonely, filled with happiness yet yearning for those moments of solitude. And in the midst of it all, you feel profoundly grateful for the extraordinary within the ordinary.
I’ve never hidden the fact that I anticipate the two days I spend working each week, partially because those days offer a stark contrast. On those days, I can use the restroom when needed, check off tasks systematically, and enjoy a space where everything stays put unless I move it. I feel productive, engage with adults, write, and focus. My pockets remain empty.
Yet, the irony is that I never truly stop being a mom. I miss my kids and wish I could envelop them in a big hug. Once you take on the role of a mother, there are no breaks, no shortcuts. And every mom with older kids will remind you—this phase will vanish in the blink of an eye, so savor it. Even if, on some days, all I feel capable of collecting is lint and doll shoes.
What I’ve come to understand is that everything I do counts. Being present for these little moments and approaching each day with purpose transforms everything. Last year, far too many days slipped away before I realized it was already noon. Where did the time go? I could hardly blame myself for the postpartum fog, yet I didn’t like the rift between my thoughts and actions. I was fulfilling my role as a mom, yet my mind was often wandering or racing toward the next task.
I’ll never tell anyone to “enjoy every moment,” because let’s be honest—who enjoys moments like when dinner gets tossed on the floor after 20 minutes of prep? Or when bedtime turns into a struggle? Or those late-night wake-ups? Not me.
However, I do advocate for seeking out the moments that matter, for embracing motherhood with intention and awareness. Today, I’ll set aside my to-do list. This afternoon, my phone will stay in another room to avoid mindless scrolling. Tonight, I’ll treat myself to a pedicure and a glass of wine because I’m still the woman I used to be, and that’s worth celebrating.
When you commit to truly living your life, something strange occurs. You remain the collector of lint, the laundry handler, and the diaper changer, true. But you also become the architect of your day as well as your children’s. You can shape those days by embodying what you inherently are: the creator of their lives and your own.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is filled with small, seemingly trivial moments that collectively shape a meaningful experience. Embracing the role of “mom” transforms daily tasks into opportunities for joy and connection, reminding us that each day is significant.