Tomorrow will be my second Mother’s Day, my sister’s first and my mother’s thirty fifth. I have mothered my sister and my mother on occasion, and now my sister embarks on mothering her very own as my mother continues to mother us and now grandmother her grandchildren.

Mothering is by far the most profound experience I’ve had. Maybe the most profound experience there is, and whether we choose cloth or disposable, breast milk or formula, cribs or family beds, day care or home school, every mother’s heart cracks when their baby cries. Every mother frets over mysterious runny noses and hurt feelings and stained onesies.

Today my little boy’s hair smelled like sand as I nursed him to sleep. He got over his sand phobia today and discovered the joy of a shovel. This will never happen again, and that is what life looks like with a child. Every day is so challenging and monotonous and ordinary and miraculous.

To my little sister: I love you. I’m so proud of you. Your grace and courage are admirable. I don’t feel the need to impart any wisdom as you’ve been taking care of children since you were a child. I’ll just say I am excited to walk the motherhood path with you, and I really hope our kids get along.