The Magic Mess In The Mirror

A reflection on identity, exhaustion, and the quiet beauty of showing up.

Motherhood is magic.

Ever catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — carrying your baby, wrangling your toddler, getting your middle schooler ready for school — and feel struck by a simple truth?

You’re somebody’s mom.

Woah.

Ignore the fact that you haven’t showered in a day and a half (who am I kidding, it’s been two days — dry shampoo and you are besties). You’re wearing your ratty old college sweatshirt, the one with the mysterious grease stain and frayed cuffs that’s somehow the comfiest thing you own.

You look like hell.

Maybe you feel like it too.

Broken sleep will do that to you. No number of microwaved coffees can solve the dark circles under your eyes. But sometimes, when you catch a quick glance of yourself, it can stop you in your tracks.

Not in a critical or judgmental way — but in reflection.

A reflection on your reflection.

You’re doing it. You’re giving it your all.

And that is beautiful.

This version of you is beautiful.

The truth is — you’re so busy.

Life is so full.

I’m still settling into momming two — which, let me tell you, is a whole different ballpark than having one babe. (I know, moms of four-plus are probably spitting out their drinks right now reading this.)

But whether you’re carting your baby on your hip trying to empty the dishwasher, or driving your kid off to college —

we rarely stop to really see ourselves.

To stand still long enough to notice the season of motherhood we’ve landed in.

We’re always remembering when, or planning what’s next.

This season? It’s fleeting.

We know it. But we can’t grab onto it.

Maybe we don’t even want to — it’s all so hard.

Maybe we’re waiting for them to get bigger, to become more independent, because then it will be easier...

Only it won’t.

It will be a different kind of hard.

Maybe we’re wishing for time to slow down.

Or maybe we just want one more yesterday — one more newborn snuggle, one more early morning cuddle.

We are rushing.

And sometimes, we just need to stop.

Catch a peek at this version of ourselves.

And marvel in it.

Marvel in the mess,

in the imperfection,

in the showing up.

In the honor of being their momma —

their safe place, their whole world.

And in being enough,

just as we are.