Yesterday was my son’s birthday. And like most birthdays in this house, it stirred up that emotional cocktail only moms know, equal parts joy, pride, and the sudden urge to sob into a slice of cake because how are they this grown already?

Being a mom to two boys has been a full-contact sport. Loud, messy, hilarious, heart-wrenching, and sometimes physically dangerous (have you ever taken a puck to the face, or gotten nailed with a bat mid-swing?). It’s been years of Nerf battles, ‘Watch this!’ moments, and quietly hidden ‘experiments’ that sent us to the ER.

But it’s also been magic. The kind of joy that sneaks up on you during a late-night heart-to-heart over leftover pizza and Takis. The kind that hits when you see your boys, these once-squishy, peanut-butter-covered toddlers, start to become men with opinions, fears, values, and a soft spot for home they’ll never admit to.

And then, there’s my daughter.

The firecracker that sounds more like an M80 (and leaves an equally comparable path of destruction in her wake). The compass. The one who somehow manages to keep her brothers in check and still make space for her brilliance. She’s beginning to find her voice, loud, clear, and unafraid to call out nonsense. (Usually theirs. Sometimes mine.) Watching her carve her own path in this world is a whole different kind of wonder.

Together, the three of them are chaos and comfort all at once. There are loud debates over dinner, inside jokes I don’t always get, and reminders that letting go doesn’t mean disappearing from the table. They challenge me, ground me, and stretch my heart in every direction.

The hardest part now? Learning when to step back.

I still have that gut-level urge to shield them from pain, to smooth out the rough patches, but I’ve learned that’s not always my job anymore. I still want to jump in with advice, a backup plan, or snacks, because sometimes snacks fix a lot.  

But they don’t need that. Not the same way. What they need now is for me to trust them. To believe they’ll figure it out. To give them the space to grow. To be there when they call, and not take it personally when they don’t.

So yeah, yesterday we celebrated a birthday. But honestly? I was celebrating all of them. My sons, who have taught me patience, humor, and how to survive a pirate-themed Scrabble game. My daughter, who inherited my fire, shares my love of writing, and somehow still manages to keep her brothers in check while prepping for law school like it’s just another Tuesday. Motherhood isn’t quiet. Not in this house. It’s loud, beautiful, exhausting, hilarious, and completely worth it. It’s letting go just a little more each year. It’s learning to love from a few steps back.

And while the house may be quieter these days, the love hasn’t gone anywhere; it just shows up in different ways.