I’m stuck in an interesting little motherhood spot.
Between a 13-yr-old and a 5-yr-old.
They need me in completely different ways.
My first baby is a teenager and it makes me emotional.
My last baby is growing by the minute and the signs of her babyishness are dwindling, and it makes me emotional.
They both run me ragged and they both fill my heart in ways I never knew possible.
Their personalities are so different but also have clear sisterly signs.
They have their own rhythms.
They have their own quirks.
They have their own opinions.
They are my whole world and sometimes I feel guilt for the world they are currently growing up in.
But I also know that they are feisty as hell and I will do everything in my power to foster that trait and help them become strong, savvy, confident women who take shit from nobody. It’s my job.
This picture was taken at my daughter’s bat mitzvah a few months ago as the gravity of this milestone hit me. I think I cried from the moment she opened her mouth that day and I don’t think I ever really stopped.
Motherhood is overwhelming. The good and the bad. It changes us because it’s meant to.
It’s consuming with very little reprieve. But my god if it isn’t also damn magical when you really stop to think about it.
Keep commiserating and bonding over the shitshow of motherhood, but also try to remember the magic. It’s there, buried under all the responsibilities and laundry. I promise. 
