Birthday, Bedhead, and a Little Bit of Pee: My Honest Take on Mother’s Day

Hey, I’m Addie. You may know me as the CEO of SweetLegs, but my real job—the one that’s 24/7, no lunch breaks, no PTO—is being a full-time mom to six incredible, chaotic, hilarious kids. Yes, six. You read that right. And we’ve got three more up in the stars cheering us on.

Our life is what we lovingly refer to as organized chaos. It’s noisy, it’s intense, it’s a blur of mismatched socks, lost water bottles, and questionable snacks found in couch cushions. But it’s also made up of the little things. Saturday morning snuggles in bed. A tiny voice sounding out words from their first book while I fight back tears. Handwritten notes tucked into school agendas that make me smile when I find them hours later. It’s everything, all at once, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

My birthday is May 12, which means every few years, I hit the jackpot and my birthday collides with Mother’s Day. When that happens, my family goes all out. Like really all out. It’s equal parts adorable and chaotic, much like everything else in our world. And somehow, I end up feeling like the luckiest woman alive—even if I’m running on two hours of sleep and reheated coffee.

The day usually starts with me dramatically pretending to sleep while I listen to Chris trying his absolute best to herd the tiny humans into a somewhat cohesive plan. I can hear the whispers and the crashes, the arguments over who gets to pour the juice, the occasional “oops,” and the smell of burning toast wafting from the kitchen. Then comes the grand entrance—breakfast and coffee in bed, proudly delivered alongside handmade birthday cards that say things like “holy cow you’re old” in glitter glue. I get school-crafted Mother’s Day gifts, and I truly mean it when I say shout out to the teachers who make that magic happen. Bless you.

Eventually, I peel myself out of bed, slip into my trusty Black Licorice SweetLegs, throw on my go-to Latte SweetTop, and shuffle to the couch like a worn-out queen making her royal appearance. I drink my coffee, which is lukewarm at best but made with love, and take in those little moments that make the chaos all worth it.

One of my favourite Mother’s Days was during the height of our toddler era. I was gifted the rare opportunity to sleep in a bit, which was glorious, until I rolled over into a suspiciously wet spot in the bed. Courtesy of our potty-training toddler. Nothing says “I love you, Mom” like mystery moisture at 7 a.m. Thankfully, those kinds of surprises are fewer and farther between these days, but the memory lives on in our family lore.

As the years pass, this season of life keeps evolving. It’s not just about sticky fingers and bedtime stories anymore. It’s celebrating first boyfriends, high school graduations, and stellar marks in college. It’s cheering from the sidelines of rugby games and texting reminders about dentist appointments. It’s holding space for the littles in our life while also making room for the big kids who are carving their own path. It’s watching your babies grow into people you’re genuinely proud of—people who still need you, but in entirely new and surprising ways.

The whole point of the birthday-meets-Mother’s-Day celebration is for me to take it easy and feel appreciated. But let’s be honest. It’s often busier than a normal day. There’s the secret planning that’s not so secret, the hiding of gifts in places I cleaned yesterday, and the whispered giggles followed by sudden silence, which as any mom knows, is both cute and mildly terrifying.

And yet, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Mother’s Day in our house is a beautiful mess of heartfelt intentions. It’s pretending you didn’t see them make the very card they’re now presenting to you like it came straight from a Hallmark movie. It’s feigning shock at the breakfast you definitely smelled cooking an hour ago. It’s accepting the celebration in all its chaotic glory and feeling deeply, profoundly loved.

So here’s to all the moms out there, doing the real work, wrapped in leggings and love. You deserve every bit of the magic—even the kind that comes with glitter glue, overcooked eggs, and a slightly soggy mattress.

Love,
Addie