Motherhood in the Middle

Caffeinated, moisturized, and one parenting decision away from a breakdown.

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My kids are older now. The baby years are behind me, and I’m in that weird space between
“Mom, I need you” and “Mom, please don’t talk to me in public.”

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Being a mom to a teenager and a 10-year-old is weird.
They don’t need me the way they used to — but they still need me.
One second, I’m ready to take on the world with them.
The next, they’re demanding more autonomy while screaming at me,
and I’m hiding in the bathroom reapplying eye cream like it’s a coping strategy.
(Which it is, by the way.)

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Parenting is this masterful dance of learning and adapting, leading and following,
being in sync and missing the beat completely.
Some days I’m two-stepping with two left feet.
Other days, I’m leading so hard I mess up the whole damn rhythm.

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Mothering tweens and teens?
It’s not Pinterest-perfect.
These are the “jungle years,” I’ve heard — and that feels about right.
You show up even when they’re rolling their eyes (which is often).
Even when they swear they don’t need you, then fall apart in your arms five minutes later.

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Motherhood in the middle is one big identity shift.
It’s loving hard.
It’s humility.
It’s acceptance.

And somehow, it’s still magical.

 

It shows up in grunts, text messages, and the sacred, blink-and-you-miss-it moments that remind you
why this job still breaks you wide open.