Between Coffee & Curfew

To my kids, I have always just been Mom.

I’m the person who knows the appointments, worries about whether everyone has eaten, asks too many question, reminds them about things they swear they already know, and somehow becomes the default person to ask when nobody else knows the answer.

That’s the version of me they know best.

But sometimes I wonder if my kids realize that before I was their mom, I was just me.

I had dreams that had nothing to do with raising children. I had fears and insecurities. I made mistakes. I fell in love. I had my heart broken. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. I worried about things that seem ridiculous now. I had entire chapters of my life before any of them entered it.

And even after becoming their mom, that woman didn’t disappear.

Sometimes she just got a little buried under the laundry.

I Was a Person Before I Was Mom

I think every child reaches an age when they suddenly realize their parents existed before they did.

It’s almost offensive to them.

Wait…Mom had friends?

Mom was young?

Mom made questionable decisions?

Absolutely not.

Surely I was born approximately 35 years old (give or take a year… or ten) holding a cup of coffee and asking someone if they remembered to brush their teeth.

But there was a whole version of me before motherhood.

I didn’t always know what I was doing. I didn’t have everything figured out. There were things I wanted for my life that happened, things that didn’t, and things I eventually stopped wanting altogether.

I changed.

I grew.

I survived things.

I made choices I’m proud of and choices I wouldn’t make again.

In other words, I was a person.

And I still am.

Becoming Their Mom Changed Me

I don’t think you can become responsible for another human being and remain exactly the same person you were before.

My children changed what scared me. They changed what mattered to me. They changed what I considered important and what I was willing to fight for.

They also introduced me to a level of worry I did not request.

Before kids, I could leave the house without wondering whether everyone had everything they needed.

What a time to be alive.

But motherhood also showed me parts of myself I didn’t know were there.

I learned how strong I could be when I didn’t have another option. I learned that I could keep going while exhausted, scared or heartbroken because somebody still needed breakfast in the morning.

I learned how deeply it is possible to love another human being.

And I learned that sometimes the people you love most can also make you want to lock yourself in the bathroom for five minutes.

Both things can be true.

I Haven’t Always Been Strong

This is something I especially want my kids to know.

They may remember me as the person who handled things. That’s what moms tend to do. Something happens and you figure it out because somebody has to.

But I wasn’t always fearless while I was doing it.

There were times I was scared.

There were times I cried after everyone else went to sleep.

There were times I didn’t know how something was going to work out but tried to make sure my kids never had to carry that worry with me.

There were times I was hurting while still packing lunches, making dinner, driving somewhere or asking how their day went.

Being strong doesn’t always mean you weren’t falling apart.

Sometimes strength is simply getting up the next morning because little people are expecting cereal.

I hope someday my kids understand that when they face hard things in their own lives.

You don’t have to feel strong to keep going.

I Made Mistakes Before Them- and I’ve Made Plenty Since

There are things about my life my kids may someday learn and think, Mom did WHAT?

Listen.

Mom has lived a little.

I’ve made mistakes. I’ve trust people I shouldn’t have. I’ve made decisions based on emotion. I’ve stayed too long in situations I should have left sooner and probably walked away from things I should have fought harder for.

I’ve learned some lessons the easy way.

I’ve learned quite a few the extremely inconvenient way.

And motherhood didn’t suddenly make me immune to mistakes.

I’ve gotten things wrong with my kids too.

I’ve lost my patience. I’ve said things I wish I’d worded differently. I’ve worried too much sometimes and probably not enough other times. I’ve made parenting decisions I would change if I could go backward knowing what I know now.

I hope my kids never mistake my being their mother for my believing I’m perfect.

I’m not.

I’m just a person who loves them enough to keep trying.

I Have Dreams That Belong to Me Too

Motherhood became one of the biggest parts of who I am, and I wouldn’t trade that.

But it isn’t the only part.

I love writing.

I love creating something out of nothing but an idea and a bunch of words in my head. I love making people laugh, making someone feel understood, and finding the words for things people feel but don’t always know how to say.

That’s part of why Between Coffee & Curfew exists.

Yes, I wanted a place to connect with other moms. I wanted somewhere we could laugh about the ridiculous parts of raising children and talk honestly about the parts that aren’t funny at all.

But there’s another reason.

I wanted to leave something behind.

Not because I plan on going anywhere anytime soon.

You’re stuck with me, kids.

But someday, long from now, I want them to have more than photographs when they want to remember me.

I want them to have my words.

Someday, I Want Them to Read This

I hope someday my kids sit down and read these posts.

Maybe they’ll laugh at the stories they recognize.

Maybe they’ll finally realize some of these posts were absolutely about them.

I’m not naming names.

They’ll know.

But I also hope they find pieces of me here.

Not only Mom.

Me.

The woman who thought too much, worried too much, loved hard, laughed at inappropriate times, made mistakes, started over, dreamed about things, wrote things down and apparently required coffee to accomplish it.

I want them to know what I thought about when they weren’t looking.

How proud I was.

How much I worried.

How many ordinary moments meant more to me than they probably realized.

And how much of my life was changed simply because they existed in it.

I Hope They Know I had a Life- and They Made It Better

I never want my children to think I gave up being a person when I became their mother.

I became more of one.

Motherhood added parts of me that didn’t exist before them.

But I also hope they know that having dreams of my own never meant they weren’t enough. Wanting something for myself doesn’t take anything away from what being their mom means to me.

I think that’s something I want them to carry into their own lives too.

You can love your family completely and still have dreams that belong only to you.

You can be somebody’s mom, dad, husband, wife, partner and still be yourself.

You should be.

Because one day your children grow up, and when they do, I don’t want to look around and realize I disappeared somewhere along the way.

I want them to see me continuing to grow too.

So, Kids, Here’s What I Want You to Know

Someday, when you’re older, you may look back and understand me differently than you do now.

You might finally understand why I worried so much. Why I said no sometimes. Why I pushed you other times. Why I made mistakes even though you probably thought adults were supposed to know what they were doing.

Spoiler alert: we don’t.

We’re all figuring it out.

I hope you remember me as your mom. I hope you remember that I showed up, that I loved you fiercely and that no matter how old you became, there was always somewhere you could come home to.

But I hope you know something else too.

There was a woman underneath the title of Mom.

She had stories you weren’t there for.

She had scars you couldn’t see.

She had dreams that belonged to her.

She was funny. She was complicated. She got things wrong. She kept trying. She loved writing. She loved creating. She loved you more than she could ever properly put into words, even though she certainly tried.

And she was still becoming who she was supposed to be while she was helping you become who you were supposed to be.

So if you’re reading this years from now, I hope you don’t only see Mom in these pages.

I hope you find me.

And I hope you know that of all the versions of myself I’ve gotten to be in this life, being your mom will always be one of my favorites.

But it was never the only thing that made me who I am.

And that’s something I hope you learn about yourselves too.

Between Coffee and Curfew 🍵❤️