The other day, I was on the floor with my baby, trying to help him learn how to crawl.
He’s eight months old and has scooting down pretty well, but I was encouraging him to lift his belly — cheering him on, playing, and soaking up some one-on-one time with him. My toddler was nearby, happily playing with Play-Doh on his own. Or so I thought.
As soon as my focus shifted fully to the baby, my two-and-a-half-year-old suddenly needed me for everything. He wanted help with the smallest things.
Not because he truly needed help.
But because he wanted my attention.
So I turned to him.
And immediately, my baby started crying.
Both of my kids wanted me at the exact same time. And while part of me finds that sweet — because it shows how much they love me — another part of me felt overwhelmed and stretched thin. I want to be fully present for both of them, but we’re still learning how to share mom, and some days, that feels really hard.
Moments like that often leave me wondering if I’m doing this right.
But then there are other moments.
Tender ones.
Moments when my baby starts fussing and I’m not right there, and my toddler walks over to him. He hands him toys. He talks to him. Just yesterday, he gently patted his back and said, “It’s okay.”
And just like that, my baby stopped crying.
As soon as he saw his big brother’s face, he smiled — that big, gummy smile that melts my heart every time. Even though they sometimes get jealous of my attention, they clearly love each other so deeply.
Those moments remind me that even in the chaos, something good is happening here. Love is growing. Bonds are forming. And somehow, even when I feel unsure, I must be doing something right.
Still, I get upset with myself sometimes.
I know this season won’t last forever. I know one day I’ll miss the noise, the mess, and the constant need for me. And when I think about that, I feel guilty for getting overwhelmed or frustrated.
But a close friend once told me something I really needed to hear:
Just because you love something doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.
And motherhood is hard.
It’s sleepless nights. It’s crying — from kids and parents. It’s loving something so deeply while feeling stretched in every direction.
You can love this season and still find it hard.
Our kids don’t need perfection. They need love. They need safety. They need us.
Everything else is extra — even when it doesn’t feel like it.
And if you’re in the thick of it right now, I hope you remind yourself of this:
You are doing a good job.
And everything is going to be okay.
