There are moments in my story–pivotal ones, shaping ones–that have clarified what being a woman is all about and what it’s not.

Tonight, it’s about being a mother, intuitively placing the white trash bin in front of my toddler’s face as she sits, freshly showered and night-time-clothed on the bathroom floor. Her stomach has been hurting all evening. It’s inevitable. She finally throws up. Nothing hits her clothes or the floor. All bin.

My husband wrestles a diaper and clothes onto our youngest then sits across from me on the tub. “This is parenting.”

I nod. We signed up for it. It’s unpredictable. And for this stage, this parenting season, we’ve learned a bit about rolling with punches. The next stage may begin tomorrow. Who knows. Remember, it’s unpredictable.

And as “they” always say, “I wouldn’t change a thing.” I mean, I would. I don’t need vomit in my life.

But I’ll keep the kids. Forever.