WFTV newscaster Martha Sugalski honors moms in her latest column

Mother’s Day is this month, and motherhood conjures up a lot of things. Creating a perfect little person, changing dirty diapers, wiping away runny noses and being there to wipe tears away, too. Potty-training, first days of school, saving every piece of artwork that gets created, kissing boo-boos and watching this tiny person head out to play dates and sleepovers at their friends’ houses. Then it’s off to elementary school, middle school and eventually graduating high school, and one day, in what will hopefully feel like a long, long time to come, college. After all that, fingers crossed, they will be off on their own using the wings you helped mold.

Along the way, us moms will have been pooped on, thrown up on, stepped on more Legos than I care to remember (I still step on them!) and will have shed many tears—the good and bad ones—watching our babies grow up.

Trust me, I know this first hand. My oldest is 23, my youngest 3. I still call my oldest son, Chase, my baby. I dreaded the day he called and said: “Guess what, Mom? I got into law school.” (Yes, I am bragging, and I am OK with that. #MothersGenes)

We had a set day for us to go get him settled at school—which means dropping some coin at Target to make sure he had the things he needed. I dropped him off at law school at Florida State University in Tallahassee in August. We had fun talking and shopping and reminiscing, and it was a great weekend. Then Sunday came, and I wondered why time was slipping by so fast. I mean, our time couldn’t be up! I started to wash his sheets and towels, and he looked at me and said, “Mom, I can do that. It’s ok.” Dreaded words.

I said, “Oh no, I get them just right, and I want to make sure your bed is properly set up.”

Chase said, “Mom, really: I want to do it.”

My heart sank. I knew that was my cue to gather my things and make my way back to Orlando. I hugged him so tight and didn’t want him to see me get upset and I made my way out of his new place and into my car. I sat for 30 minutes in his driveway bawling my eyes out. A full-fledged bawl. As in the kind where your eyes get puffy, you can’t see straight and you can’t breathe and your heart starts to hurt. I cried so hard I had a headache. This tough news girl was a sap. (Although when I was pregnant with the triplets I cried at Publix commercials, and they were not even the mushy holiday ones!)

Something about that moment driving away from my firstborn crushed my soul. When he graduated from the University of Florida, that was a celebration—a huge accomplishment was achieved. However, there was something about law school that got to me. Like I knew deep down once this was over with and he graduated from law school, that there were no more parent weekends at school, no more driving up to surprise him, and instead of coming home to us for summer vacation, he may have his own apartment and his career.

Yes, his life was officially starting. My baby was indeed a man. I couldn’t even pick up the phone to call home to say I was leaving Tallahassee. I think I cried all the way to I-4.

Motherhood kills me some days but for all the right reasons. Forget the laundry piled high or the kitchen that needs to be cleaned or those 9,000 pieces of Legos that decorate your Pottery Barn rug, which, before you had kids, no one could walk on with shoes. Once you become a mother, everything changes. The good, the bad and the ugly.

So, as Mother’s Day approaches, spoil all the moms in your life. Get her the sappy cards. We love those homemade gifts. And remember to call home. Us moms have been through so much, and I am not just talking about the actual delivery. The emotional roller coaster of parenting, of constant worrying. Our babies may get older and one day have babies of their own; however, one thing will never change.

We will always be their moms.

And as far as I am concerned, the gift of a child makes every day Mother’s Day— not just one day out of the year.

This article originally appeared in Orlando Family Magazine’s May 2017 issue.