When I was growing up, there was one special spoon that I loved above all others. It had a thin wooden handle, and the spoon itself was a beautifully shaped oval, the last piece of a set my parents had when they were first married. My mother always remembered my preference and would often set the table with that spoon just for me, a tiny detail that never failed to delight me. That spoon was just one of the countless details she never forgot; a simple act of thoughtfulness was one of her ways of showing love and a reflection of the Mother Load she carried—the unseen emotional load that every mother bears.

Mothers are the ultimate project managers, balancing deadlines and details to keep the business of life together. Because I am a modern woman, I digitize my anxieties into a list of reminders on my phone, and this list lights up even before the sun does.

The list is relentless

Call the insurance company about an unusual bill.
Confirm with room parents about Teacher Appreciation Week duties.
Send the Mother's Day cards—wait, first buy said cards, then send them.
Text the babysitter. Again.
Fill out the permission form Google doc.
Pack a bag lunch for a different field trip happening today.

All of this before 5:15 a.m.

But that list is just scratching the surface. Most of what goes on is only documented in my mental Rolodex, a spinning collection of likes, dislikes, appointments, and important dates. One boy likes Nutella on his wheat toast, but if that’s not available, cream cheese will do. The other wants only butter on his toast but prefers jalapeño cheddar to wheat. One wants a sandwich in their lunch but no chips, while the other skips the bread and just wants turkey and a cheese stick. And that’s just breakfast and lunch.

Moms like me are also the family’s emotional barometer, keeping an eye on everyone just in case the pressure becomes too much. Does someone seem cranky? Diagnosis mode activate!

<Scanning alternatives> Are they tired? Hungry? Dehydrated? Hormonal? All of the above? Administering snack, water, hug. Whatever it takes.

As a way of keeping my finger on the pulse of their ever-changing lives, I do regular Cuddle Nights with each boy. They get to stay up a little later than the other, watch a special show with me, and enjoy a bedtime treat. My son Lucas and I watch Somebody Feed Phil and snack on cinnamon bears. David and I watch old Bob’s Burgers episodes and have M&Ms. The shows and snacks are secondary to the time we spend. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes, they sigh and snuggle in close, even holding my hand. Other times, we sit far apart on the couch, and that’s fine too. They look forward to this time, reminding me of our upcoming date night earlier in the week—and so do I.

I think about those moments often as I watch my boys grow up so fast. So much of the Mother Load feels like Groundhog Day: rise, shine, empty the dishwasher, walk to school, walk home, do the job, do all the things, walk back to school and home again, make dinner, sleep, repeat. I’m sure my husband’s and our kids’ days repeat in similar monotony. As grateful as I am for all that we have, it can be a grind for us all. So I cherish the moments when I can remind them how special they are and how much they are loved, simply by remembering their favorite mug for hot chocolate, stocking up on their favorite treat of dried mangoes or Takis, or surprising them with a silly note in their lunch.

During snuggle nights with my boys, they often lean in and say, I love you, Mama.
I love you too, my boy, I always say, as my heart explodes with joy, and for a moment, the Mother Load doesn’t seem like a burden at all. It feels like a gift.