Moms Really Do Carry It All

We really do, huh? Without fail.

We get out of the car, everybody hops out, and somehow I am left standing there gathering everybody’s stuff.

Water bottles. Backpacks. Jackets. Random toys that nobody remembers bringing into the car in the first place. My purse. My own water bottle. Something somebody absolutely needed when we left the house and suddenly couldn't care less about now.

Meanwhile, everybody else? Gone. Already halfway to the house.

And I’m standing at the car like, “How did I become responsible for transporting every single item owned by this family?!”

And it works the other way, too. Leaving the house somehow means Mom is carrying all the things to the car while everyone else simply…walks to the car.

The other day, as I was once again gathering everybody's stuff, I had one of those random thoughts: Mothers really do carry it all.

And suddenly this wasn't about backpacks anymore.

It’s never just the stuff. Because yes, we carry the physical stuff.

But we carry so much that nobody can actually see. We carry the school schedules.

The appointments. The emails. The forms that need to be signed. The fact that somebody needs new shoes. The birthday party coming up next Saturday. The snack somebody likes this week but will apparently hate next week. The thing the teacher mentioned three weeks ago that needs to be brought to school tomorrow.

We carry who needs what, when they need it, where they need to be, and what needs to happen before we can get them there.

Constantly anticipating schedule changes and pivoting when it does happen. The invisible work of sending emails to teachers and coaches and updating the family calendar and my own calendar. My kids have no idea what goes on behind the scenes, sometimes it’s before work, laying in bed at night or stepping out to my car in the middle of day at work to handle things that come up.

And half the time, nobody realizes how much you're carrying because you're carrying it so well.

The invisible bags are heavier.

I can put a backpack down. I can put the water bottles on the counter. I can kick everybody's shoes into a corner and deal with them later.

But the mental stuff? That doesn't have a designated place by the front door. It follows you around. It's there while you're working. It's there while you're driving. It's there while you're trying to watch TV. It's there when you finally get into bed and your brain suddenly goes:

Oh shit. Don't forget snack for the WHOLE class tomorrow.

Making sure their backpacks are packed for the next school day with every important paper needed the following day.

Motherhood is constantly having 37 tabs open in your brain, and somehow several of those tabs don't even belong to you.

Maybe just maybe, I don't have to carry every damn thing

This is the part I'm working on. Because somewhere along the way, carrying everything became automatic. Someone leaves something in the car? I grab it. Someone forgets something? I remember it. Someone needs something? I'm already figuring out how to make it happen.

And obviously, my kids are still kids. They need me. That's part of the job. But they're also growing. And maybe part of raising them is slowly handing some of the bags back.

Grab your backpack. Get your water bottle. You brought that toy into the car, baby. You can bring it back inside.

Because I don't want to raise children who assume Mom will always trail behind them picking up everything they leave behind. And honestly? I don't want to be the mom who does that anymore.

I want to be the mom that has told their kids so many times to do xyz and one day your instinct is to tell them to do xyz and then you watch magic happen and they do it without it being said. Those are the moments I live for and smile because that means my kids are listening to what I say to them, even if it takes repeating myself 50 times.

There will always be things I carry for my babies. That's motherhood.

Sometimes it's their backpack. Sometimes it's their worries. Sometimes it's the 900 pieces of information required to keep their little lives moving.

Sometimes it's literally a half-eaten snack, somebody's jacket, two water bottles, my purse, a library book, and some random rock they decided was important.

But maybe motherhood isn't about proving that I can carry it all. Maybe it's learning what actually belongs in my hands…and what I can finally hand back.

Now please come get your stuff out of my car!