Motherhood can be a real trip, let me tell you. One minute you’re staring into a laundry basket, searching for a missing sock, and the next you’re transported back in time to your own childhood. That’s exactly what happened to me the other day. As I dug through the pile of tiny clothes, frustrated by the elusive sock, I had a flashback to my days in the schoolyard as a 10-year-old. Yeah, life wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies back then.
Growing up in the ’80s as a tall, awkward, Haitian kid with hand-me-down clothes was no walk in the park. My English was a dead giveaway of my heritage, and my mismatched socks were a constant source of ridicule. Kids can be cruel, you know? They never let me forget that I was different, that I didn’t quite fit in. So, I learned to control what I could—my appearance, my demeanor, my socks.
Fast forward to now, and I’m a 45-year-old lawyer, juggling a million things at once. But that missing sock brought back all those childhood insecurities I thought I had buried long ago. Motherhood has a funny way of holding up a mirror to your past, forcing you to confront old wounds you thought had healed.
But hey, I’m a work in progress, just like the rest of us moms out there. Perfection is overrated, control is an illusion, and sometimes, you just gotta let things go. Like my daughter, who happily wore mismatched socks without a care in the world. Maybe she’s onto something, you know?
To all the working moms, lawyer moms, women holding up the world—cut yourself some slack. We’re all doing the best we can, and sometimes, that means embracing the imperfections. Healing our childhood wounds isn’t just for us, it’s for the next generation too. So, the next time you feel like everything’s falling apart over a missing sock, take a deep breath, ask yourself what really matters, and let it go.
Life’s too short to sweat the small stuff. And maybe, just maybe, learning to love that little child within us is the real victory in the end.
