How Do Mothers Go Back to Being
TODAY
Today was a long-awaited day. It was sleepover day for my son, and though he hadn’t thought much of it until the morning, the anticipation had started to build. He was excited to go, but there was that flicker of reluctance too—an unfamiliar, almost sad realization that he wouldn’t be with me. And then the question rose in my mind: how do mothers go back to being?
As I prepared him for the night away, I tried to soften the idea. „It’s just one night,” I told him. „You’ll sleep on a mattress on the floor, like a tent. It’s going to be so fun, I promise.” I painted the adventure in the brightest colors I could find, hoping to convince him that this small separation was just a tiny step in the grand journey of growing up.
Still, there were tears. He remembered camp—remembered how it had felt to be away from me, locked in a strange place, with unfamiliar faces and shadows in the dark. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, and my heart ached. I pondered whether I should ever send him away to camp, wondering if I was rushing him, or perhaps holding him back.
But then, at 6 AM, he woke up anxious. Had he packed the right toys? Would he be okay without me? As I reassured him, I felt the weight of his love—his desperate need for my presence, my care. It struck me, then, how fragile these moments are, how quickly they pass.
YESTERDAY
Being always on call it’s really tiring. This is how it used to be. And sometimes we all need to breathe. Whether it’s hard or not, we have to take this time. It used to be me and him or us and him and it will still be this way. But sometimes yesterday turns into a new tomorrow we have to see.
TODAY
And as he drove off to his sleepover, leaving behind an empty house that suddenly felt full of quiet, something unexpected stirred within me. For the first time in a long while, I straightened my back. I took my seat at the table and suddenly felt—royal, almost. In that quiet, in that stillness, I found the space to be me again.
It’s a strange thing, this idea of “being”—of carving out a place for yourself when the world around you demands so much. As a mother, it’s all too easy to put yourself last. The days blur into one another, and the list of tasks stretches on, demanding attention. Childcare, work, household chores—they swallow you whole. In the chaos, the concept of beingbecomes a forgotten luxury.
TOMORROW
So when I said goodbye to my son, I realized that today, for the first time in what felt like years, I had something I’d been longing for: time for myself. Real time. Time to write, to learn, to breathe. To simply be.
Being, for me, had become the lowest priority, the last item on an endless to-do list. I had forgotten the quiet power of self-discipline, the ability to step back and just exist in my own skin, to reconnect with the thoughts that belong only to me.
Hello, dear mothers who have gone back to being. This is a moment worth celebrating. There is nothing more fulfilling than the sound of your own thoughts, than the joy of doing something for yourself, however small.
2025
And for January, I’ve added a new must-do to my list: reach out to those who matter. Send a note to remind them of something meaningful we shared. Plan those long-overdue meetups with friends who are dear. The kind of moments I used to put off because there was never time.
Today, I found a part of myself I thought I’d lost. Mothers can go back to being with a bit of selfishness. Hello, the being mom! You’ve been deeply missed.
