Motherhood is such a strange and beautiful thing.
It changes shape over the years. One day you are wiping little faces, breaking up sibling arguments, and wondering if you’ll ever sit down again… and then suddenly, somehow, they are adults with lives, opinions, careers, heartbreaks, dreams, and stories of their own.
This Mother’s Day, I find myself sitting in reflection more than celebration. Don’t get me wrong, I love celebrations. But this year I feel more introspective and I am filled with so much gratitude for my motherhood.
I am the proud mother of four amazing children
Watching them grow into adults has been one of the greatest honors of my life. They are all wildly different, each carrying their own personality, strengths, struggles, humor, and perspectives into the world. And somehow, despite all the moments where I questioned my choices as a mother, they became incredible humans anyway.
Maybe that’s one of the lessons motherhood teaches us:
we are never going to do it perfectly.
And maybe we were never supposed to.
I’ve also been thinking about my own mother this week
We are different in many ways. We have not always been close, and life has carried us down separate emotional paths. But maturity has a way of softening the sharp edges of old expectations. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more aware of the things she did give me.
She taught me responsibility.
She taught me cleanliness, etiquette, manners.
She instilled good meal time habits.
She was “Dr. Mom” for me when my kids were young and I needed advise.
She gave me a childhood filled with animals and pets, which planted seeds I never even realized would grow into such a meaningful part of my life later on.
Truthfully, I would not have been able to petsit across the country and take care of the pets and houses with 5 star reviews without those experiences.
Funny how life works that way.
Sometimes the gifts we carry forward are not the loud dramatic moments, but the quiet everyday lessons we barely noticed at the time.
Every mother carries her own unique energy into her family
In nature, every shoreline has its own kind of energy.
One beach may have smooth white sands.
Another, dramatic rocky coasts.
While another may be covered in driftwood shaped by years of changing tides.
Each one unique and each one changing every day.
None are perfect in every moment of every day. Tides come and go, weather and storms change them, and yet they remain constant and beautiful.
And mothers are like that.
Some moms are nurturing and soft.
Some are structured and practical.
Some are protective.
Some lead with affection.
Some inspire adventure.
Some show love openly, while others express it quietly through sacrifice and responsibility.
Some are still healing while trying to raise others at the same time.
One mother may raise her children with structure and schedules.
Another may raise them with freedom and creativity.
One may work long exhausting hours.
Another may stay home and pour herself fully into family life.
Most are simply trying to love the best way they know how.
None are perfect in every moment of every day. As mother’s, we become stronger as we weather the storms. We all bring our own vibe, our own imprint, and unique energies into the homes and families we create.
And there is beauty in that.
This Mother’s Day, I’m feeling grateful
Grateful for my children.
Grateful for the lessons motherhood has taught me.
Grateful for my own mother and the ways she shaped my life, even imperfectly.
Grateful for the women who helped shape me.
And grateful for the messy, imperfect, emotional, beautiful journey that motherhood really is.
To all the moms out there — in every form of motherhood that exists — I see you.
And I hope you see yourself with a little more gentleness too.
My Beach Metaphors for Moms
Some moms are like seashells scattered along the shore
Each carrying a different story shaped by where they’ve been
Some moms are like lighthouses
Steady through storms, guiding everyone home even when they’re exhausted themselves.
Some moms are like tide pools
Quiet on the surface, yet filled with hidden life, beauty, and tiny worlds of care.
Some moms are like driftwood
Shaped by difficult waters, yet still beautiful, strong, and useful in ways they never expected.
Some moms are like the morning tide
Gentle, calming, and bringing peace wherever they go.
Some moms are like crashing waves
Energetic, passionate, impossible to ignore, filling their homes with life and movement.
Some moms are like rocky cliffs
Strong and resilient against constant waves offering protection and safety.
Some moms are like sea glass
Softened by time, hardship, and years of experience into something quietly beautiful.
Some moms are like sandy shores
Comforting, warm, and the place everyone instinctively returns to.
Some moms are like hidden coves
Safe spaces where people feel protected, accepted, and loved without judgment.
Some moms are like dunes
Constantly reshaped by the winds of life, yet still standing strong.
Some moms are like deep ocean currents
Unseen at times, but powerfully influencing everything around them.
Some moms are like pelicans riding the wind
Adaptable, patient, and trusting themselves through changing conditions.
Some moms are like old piers
Weathered by years of supporting others, yet still holding generations of memories.
Some moms are like the horizon
Always there, even when life feels uncertain or stormy.
Some moms are like beach fires
Bringing warmth, storytelling, laughter, and connection to the people gathered around them.
Some moms are like ocean breezes
Subtle but comforting, often appreciated most when they’re missed.
Some moms are like cliffs after a storm
Scarred in places, but breathtakingly strong.
Some moms are like coral reefs
Quietly supporting entire ecosystems of life, love, and connection beneath the surface.
Some moms are like anchor points in rough seas
Helping others stay grounded when life feels overwhelming.
Some moms are like sunsets over the water
Softening even the hardest days with their presence.
Just Keep Walking. Step with Love. Always forward. – Patti Jewel
