The Day I Became a Mother for the Second Time

By the time Shayna was born (27 years ago today), I had already navigated thousands of children.

High school babysitting. Teaching little kids gymnastics in college to make money.
Full-time nanny after graduation.

And then managing, and later district managing, Sesame Street retail stores.

If you do not remember the now defunct chain, picture this:

Right in front of our store stood Oscar the Grouch.
He would pop out of his trash can.
Turn his head left. Turn it right. Then disappear back inside.

Every child walking past would stop mesmerized.

Then came the tugging on sleeves. The pleading to go in. And very often, the crying when mom or dad said no.

We saw it all in that store.

Joy. Meltdowns. Negotiations. Full body floor protests.

Nothing about children intimidated me.

I could read a kid in seconds.
I could see a tantrum building before it exploded.
I could manage chaos calmly.

So when I became a mother the first time, I was not learning logistics.

And when I became a mother the second time, when Shayna arrived, I was not suddenly unsure of myself.

But here is what none of those experiences prepared me for:

Loving two completely different humans without comparison creeping in.

Shayna did not need the same mother her sister did.

She needed her version of me.

That required something new.

Not management. Not strategy. Not crowd control.

Attention. Flexibility. Letting go of what worked before.

All those years spotting little gymnasts taught me how to catch someone when they wobbled.

Motherhood the second time taught me when not to catch them.

Managing a store full of toddlers taught me how to handle noise.

Raising Shayna taught me how to listen.

Happy birthday, Shayna.

You did not make me a beginner.

You made me better.