Before we get started, I know the last few weeks around here have been a little heavy.
We’ve talked about being overwhelmed. We’ve talked about losing yourself.
It’s basically been free therapy (which, depending on your insurance plan, might be the closest thing we have to universal healthcare).
So this week, we’re taking a break.
This week, we’re laughing at me.
And before anyone comes for me, I have a confession: I used to be judgmental.
Very judgmental.
I blame at least part of it on being Portuguese.
If you know, you know.
Everybody knows everybody’s business and everybody has an opinion.
And somehow your grandmother can still tell you what her fourth cousin’s neighbor wore to a wedding ten years ago, who made the food, what everyone ate, who left early, and exactly why none of it was as good as hers.
So yes… I had opinions.
Lots of them.
Especially about parenting.
Which is funny, because at the time I didn’t have any kids.
My sister had my niece when she was just sixteen, and I was about twenty-five years old.
I absolutely adored my niece and looked for any excuse to spend time with her.
Most of the time that involved me buying matching outfits for the two of us because apparently I thought we were a package deal.
Looking back, she was probably my first taste of motherhood.
The handing-her-back-to-her-mom-at-the-end-of-the-day version.
Unfortunately, it was also just enough experience to convince me I knew what I was talking about.
I remember one weekend inviting my sister and niece over for a sleepover.
At some point, my sister asked if I could take my niece for the night so she could get a little break.
Naturally, I told her she didn’t need a break.
She should stay too.
Why would she want a break when all of us hanging out together would be so much more fun?
At least that made perfect sense to twenty-five-year-old Sonia.
Regardless, they came over, and I had a great time, although I’m not entirely sure my sister would describe it the same way.
Later that night, my niece did what babies do best and had a massive blowout.
And suddenly we realized something had been forgotten.
I honestly can’t remember if it was wipes or an extra outfit.
Maybe both.
But I remember thinking to myself, “Man, how irresponsible.”
But here’s the worst part.
I didn’t just think it.
I actually said it.
“Your diaper bag should be packed the night before. You really need to be more organized now that you’re a mom.”
She kind of just looked at me and said, “Okay.”
The confidence I had about a job I’d never actually done was truly remarkable.
Looking back, I completely missed the point.
She was exhausted, and honestly, how could she not have been? She was sixteen years old.
The only reason I even remember this story is because years later, after I became a mom, I realized I had forgotten something I meant to pack in Aria’s diaper bag.
My sister was there when I realized it, and that’s when she reminded me of this conversation.
There was definitely a smirk on her face when she started with, “Well, do you remember what you told me when Makayla was a baby?”
Apparently, she’d been waiting years for that moment.
Touché.
I forget things all the time.
The water bottle I filled five minutes before leaving the house that’s still sitting on the counter.
The snacks I packed but somehow left in the fridge.
And I even wrote an entire blog post about accidentally forgetting to pack enough clothes for myself on a family vacation.
Funny how that works.
One minute you’re giving parenting advice you have absolutely no business giving, and the next you’re forgetting water bottles, snacks, clothes, and sometimes your sanity too.
As it turns out, forgetting things was only the beginning.
There were plenty of things I used to judge other parents for doing because, obviously, I would never do that.
And then I became a mom.
Exhibit A:
— Me, before becoming a parent
Then Paw Patrol entered my life.
And man… those pups have saved my day more than once.
They’ve helped me finish dinner, answer a work call, write this blog post, and sometimes just drink a cup of coffee while it was still hot.
Turns out they’re not just here to save Adventure Bay.
I also couldn’t fathom how some parents were always late.
In my mind, if your diaper bag was packed, your snacks were packed, your clothes were laid out, and you left on time, there was absolutely no reason to be late.
At least that’s what twenty-five-year-old Sonia thought.
Now I have a toddler.
The best part is showing up thirty-five minutes late only to have someone whose kids are grown ask, “What took so long?”
Cough, cough… Dad.
Like sir… have you completely forgotten what it’s like to get a toddler out the door?
One minute they’re ready.
The next minute they’re suddenly starving, they need to use the bathroom, they want to change the shoes they’re already wearing, and now they absolutely cannot leave the house without the baby doll they haven’t touched in three weeks.
We’re lucky we made it at all.
And don’t even get me started on food.
Now, to be fair, cooking was never really my issue. I actually love to cook.
For years, I was convinced my future child would eat perfectly balanced, home-cooked meals made from scratch and everything would be organic.
Now?
We eat Kraft Mac & Cheese.
I make box pancakes where the recipe simply calls for water.
And vegetables?
She acts personally offended if one gets too close to her plate.
So if you’re reading this while eating your toddler’s leftover dinosaur nuggets over the sink…
Just know I’m not judging you anymore.
Because becoming a mom didn’t just change how I parent.
It changed how I judge.
The less experience I had, the more opinions I seemed to have.
The more experience I gained, the more grace I learned to give.
And the more I think about it, I think that’s true about a lot more than parenting.
When my sister brought up the diaper bag conversation years later, what stopped me in my tracks wasn’t the diaper bag.
It was remembering how sure I was.
How convinced I was that I knew exactly what she should be doing.
The truth is, I didn’t realize how much grace she deserved until I needed some myself.
Maybe that’s why I’ve gotten less judgmental over the years.
The more life hands you your own humbling moments, the harder it becomes to assume you know what someone else is carrying.
When you’re standing on the outside looking in, it’s easy to notice what someone dropped.
It’s a lot harder to notice everything they’re already holding.
Simply Sonia 