I don’t have enough phalanges to count the number of times people have asked me why I quit my job in TV news.

Some things you can’t understand until you experience them. Yeah… that’s motherhood.

It occurred to me recently just how very physical being a mom is. Lifting, moving, rocking, nursing, holding, changing them.

It hit me as I surveyed the family room one night recently, standing smack in the center of the same three-foot radius where 75% of any given day revolves—the kitchen sink.

Parenting is nothing if not an emotional roller coaster. Like, The Hulk of emotional roller coasters.

There are several occasions in life which force a woman to confront the inevitable and apparent fact that—despite what her inner 19-year-old brain and sometimes fashion sense is telling her—she is undeniably, objectively, and painfully.. a grown up.

I’m not in the practice of patting myself on the back all too often (hello, all other moms out there too!), but may I just say, after this weekend, I think I deserve the gold medal for mothering the shit out of my kids.

Since having kids–and especially since having our third–people have asked, “How do you do it?” And for the longest time, I had no answer.

Admission: The term “Mini Me,” when used to describe one’s child, is a bit squirm-inducing to me.

There are many points in motherhood when we share our stories. And boy are there stories to share.