Flash back to 2009, my son Jack was almost two. It was the end of a long day for this working mama and I was exhausted. Dinner complete, dishes washed, children bathed and all I wanted was to climb into bed and read a book after our nighttime routine. Do you feel me?

Baths complete.

Books read.

Jammies on.

Lights dimmed.

Songs sang.

Kids rocked.

Sigh.

I was ready to sneak off for some “me time”.

Me (laying Jack down into his crib): Good night sweet Jack.

Jack: Knock-knock mama.

Me: Who’s there?

Jack: More rock-rock mama.

Me: More rock-rock?

Jack (pointing to the rocking chair): Yes mama.

Back to the rocking chair we went. Goodbye book, goodbye “me time”, and goodbye cozy bed. There was no way I was going to sink into my bed with my book; because I was likely going to fall asleep in the rocker. Again. And then I inhaled his scent – lavender, detergent and sweet baby breath. Not so bad…even if that meant I’d have to wait another night to find out who the killer was. He nestled in and wrapped his hand around my finger, dozing gently.

Today, big-boy Jack is 14. He still lets me tuck him in, still waves affectionately as he walks away from my car, and still lets me hold his hand. I think it’s because of these moments and so many others when I created space for him. When we found gentle space between the two of us to meet in the middle. His older sister is demanding and clear about her needs – so much so, that if I don’t pay close attention, I can miss Jack’s smaller cues.

If this is you, I see you. I see you putting things aside to take care of other people. If you’re overwhelmed with parenthood, I see that too. We all have those days. No judgement here. Just don’t miss the small cues – yours and theirs.

If you’re a mom, I hope you have a beautiful mother’s day this weekend. I hope you feel celebrated and get to kick off your shoes and have a glass of Rosé. I hope someone else cooks for you and a small child brings you a bouquet of dandelions. I hope you feel seen for everything you do for everyone in your world.

Knock-knock mama – you’re a rock star.

With compassion,

Dr. Amy