“You get ONE motherhood.”

When my counselor said those words to me, I froze. The skin on my arms pricked up, and I felt an ache in my chest. Simultaneously, I felt the need to drop everything and squeeze my kids, while also feeling the panic of planning all the things I want to experience with them.

“You get ONE motherhood.”

These words came flooding back to me as I read the headline that 19 children were murdered in Texas. I froze again, but this time, I felt a horrible sickness in my stomach. Those babies, their families, their MOTHERS… What did they do that morning before school? Did they get a chance to connect with their kids, or was it a rushed morning, where they barely noticed what they were wearing?

“You get ONE motherhood.”

In the past two years, no matter what stages our kids were in, we moms have done a lot more mothering than we ever expected to do. With our “abundance of caution” has come an abundance of time together.

I started that time at a sprint, not knowing what lay ahead. I put so much energy into those first few months, and depleted my mommy water bottle. My water/energy was being drained, with few opportunities to replenish it.

As vaccinations started to roll out, my husband and I talked about what we wanted to add back into our lives. Naturally, those discussions centered around the boys’ activities. Last summer, I ran myself ragged, trying to make up for that first Covid summer. I spent a good part of June, July, and August in Mean Mommy Mode.

In January, my vaccinated 10 year old and seven year old tested positive, along, with, it seemed, everyone else. I could not- WOULD NOT- spend another winter cooped up in my house. As I sat there, feeling not-connected to my kids, I scrolled through social media and saw friends skiing with theirs.

At first, I pushed the idea off until next year, when my youngest would turn five. But I’d find myself looking back at friends’ photos, asking another mom about her ski experience, and researching deals on Groupon. There was a little voice that questioned, “Why not NOW?”

By mid-March, our family had gone skiing six times. I didn’t know it, but it was as if the tiny seed of an idea was planted in January, and finally sprouted in May: “You get ONE motherhood,” it bloomed.

For me, it has become inconsequential whether or not all three boys love a shared outing, or getting there is a big hassle, or we should have waited another year. If this is something that I really want to do, something that will bring out the kid in me and put joy in my heart, then my children are going to get the best version of me. After all, I only have a single chance.

I get ONE motherhood.