Buddy's - Mom2015

October 26, 2023

#Motherhood #Memories #Throwback #Family buddy's mom2015

I remember scoffing at the time. Buddy’s mom. I had a name. I had a career. I had opinions on foreign policy and a favorite indie band. I wasn’t just an appendage to a three-foot-tall person. October 26, 2023 #Motherhood #Memories #Throwback #Family I

So keep the messy bun. Keep the stained shorts. Keep kneeling on that rug. You aren't just "Buddy's Mom." You are his whole sky. I had a career

With so much love, The 2023 You If you have a photo from 2015 (or any year) where you felt invisible, tired, or just labeled as "X's mom" or "Y's dad," dig it up. Look at it again. You aren't looking at a faded parent. You’re looking at a superhero in yoga pants.

Go hug your "Buddy." And take the photo. Even the messy one. Especially the messy one.

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you know that 2015 was the year of the sippy cups, the year of the endless puffs snack, and the year my son—my little "Buddy"—was three years old. Three is a magic, chaotic age. It’s the year they stop being toddlers and start becoming little people. It’s the year of the "why" phase, the tantrum in the grocery store checkout line, and the first time they say "I love you" without being prompted.