I like to think I can articulate things well. I am often the translator between two people who speak the same language yet don’t understand each other and I suppose if you asked people around me they would say I talk a lot so I had better be able to communicate.

For the past few weeks I have been trying to put my finger on what is so awesome about being a mom. Not that I have any doubts or need justification but with a two-year old, a few dogs and a husband who is working away more than he is home, I was really trying to pinpoint why I want another one so bad. And why my heart is so full even though I do nothing but say, “No” all day long.

I mean, I can’t shower without either company (not the kid, the books and toys he throws in with me) or wondering what the little ginger is destroying. If it’s not a trip to Meltdown City leaving the park, it’s throwing dinner at the dogs out of excitement. Friends with kids couldn’t even possibly have a child as wild as mine (does everyone think this?). Friends with or without kids judge your every move. Or non-move. And by friends I mean family and some friends and you might as well throw strangers in there.

There are the obvious moments of pure joy with your children that erase any hardship or temper tantrum. Namely when said offspring is sleeping. But also little hugs and kisses, the new unexpected tricks and gestures, and the adorable pictures (you can usually get one or two out of the 42 you take). There are all of the firsts and the habits and the adorable clothes! The love is immeasurable. But thousands of years into evolution, it is expected.

So what is that intangible warm feeling in your heart and your gut that you get from those things? What makes your parenting special (let’s face it, there have been billions before you)? What exact feelings can we have that everyone else feels but no one could possibly understand? What makes us want to give up our entire lives for a completely dependent, helpless little human? Well arguably before the first one it’s not what we think it is.. I sure as heck had no clue what I was getting into. And my patience is pushed to the limit everyday so why do I want another one and what on Earth makes me think this first one is going so well? (I still can’t believe they let me take him home from the hospital at the tender age of 27).

Innocence. I wouldn’t go back in time for a million dollars. Until I was 16 I just wanted to be grown up, then I was drunk for a good five years (or eight) and I didn’t even remotely begin to find myself until I was 23, maybe even 26. I love myself more now than I ever have, partially thanks to giving the gift of innocence to my son. I don’t want mine back, but his makes my heart flutter. Knowing the extremely temporary nature of innocence (relative to a life span), makes it all the more precious.

Pride. I f*cking made that little human. There are billions of them but I made this one. And not by myself. It took me finding the perfect mate, who I happen to love more than anyone has ever loved anyone. He’s proud to see me in his son and vice versa. The beautiful things that my son does he learned from me. Talking on a phone or stepping on the scale and looking down came from me. His curly hair is mine. I get to see my reflection in him.  I get to see my husband in him. We are creating his character. I cooked him for 41 weeks and he’s perfect. That’s a lot of responsibility and yields a lot of pride. Maybe everyone feels it, but not like mine. Just like everyone else’s.

Resolve. You gotta have it together to raise one of these little monsters. This is where unconditional love comes from, and on those days where you are dressing a moving target, fielding bites and scratches and your munchkin finds their screeching voice, you are the. only. person. in the world who could love them unconditionally. That is a good feeling to go to sleep with. That’s accomplishment (don’t tell anyone it’s easy as crap to love them no matter what kind of storm they are brewing in your bathroom with the door closed). You made it. You are dedicated. Corporate jobs and marathons ain’t got shit on teething or growing pains. You have the drive, you are the best parent your child could ever have, every dang day. That’s a mindset and not everyone has it.

Enough. And by having enough I don’t mean settling. I mean the fact that popcorn and Disney movies on Fridays have replaced social gatherings and that’s how you want it. Sleeping in twice a year is enough (whaaaat!?). Your passions that you lived and breathed for or dreamed of in your future take a backseat. One kid might be enough, five might be enough but without kids, you don’t have enough. This seems so simple, but it’s not when it’s your enough we’re talking about.

None of these traits belong to parents or future parents exclusively. It doesn’t take parenthood to feel pride or completeness. This is simply how I found best to describe the root of my pure love for being a mom and my longing desire to have more of these crazy little rascals running around scaling walls and windows and doing cardio at 9:30pm here at Casa De Cuddles and Cuss Words.

This week I fell down the last few stairs in our house and rolled my ankle. After I crawled up the stairs, I Skyped my husband with tears streaming down my face. He thought I was crying because I was in pain. I wasn’t (even though it really hurt). I was angry because on Friday mornings I go to CrossFit dammit and now I can’t walk! (I’m still my own person and have things that I love besides being the matriarch of The Braskey Homestead). And mostly I was sad because we were heading to the zoo the next day and what if I just ruined that trip for my 27-month old!? I know he didn’t even know we were going but he was gonna love it!! Moments like laying with a swollen ankle in the air, tears flowing, zero shame, only genuine devotion to my family, make me realize I’m a little part just me and a big part Mac’s mom. This little guy on my hip has replaced Guess bags and high heels. I eat when he is done. I sleep after he sleeps. I cry when he cries. If that doesn’t define you in the most beautiful way possible, I don’t know what could. You can actually go ahead and add “Definition” to the list of things that everyone can feel but not like you.

Time to put out fires and start the 1.5 hour process that is bedtime. I cannot imagine how long it would take if he didn’t sleep in my bed. (Don’t judge). Goodnight fellow table manner warriors and lovers of purple minions. You are enough. May you have enough, epitomize pride, cherish innocence and stay the resolute, mother-lovin’ course.

~Alex Hartinger, writer, reader, mother, practitioner of nutrition response testing, founder of the braskey homestead and genuinely curious human being