The Motherhood Shift

A few months ago, I wrote about the identity shift I experienced during my first year of motherhood. Looking back now, I realize that wasn’t the only shift. In fact, motherhood seems to be one long series of them. And the latest one I’ve been sitting with? What I call the motherhood shift.

Allow me to break it down.

The Tiny Potato Stage (all nurture, all you)

In the beginning, motherhood felt like the tiny potato stage. I was caring for this squishy little human who couldn’t even release gas without help. He depended on me for literally everything — food, comfort, survival. He didn’t even realize he was a separate person yet. My role was clear: caretaker, nurturer, lifeline.

The Toddler Intern (the in-between stage)

Then came what I like to call the intern stage. Not quite a helpless potato anymore, but I definitely was not running the show either. He wanted to do things “all by myself!” — but still needed my guidance to actually pull it off.

This stage reminded me of that awkward caterpillar-in-the-chrysalis phase. He wasn’t a butterfly yet, but he was testing his wings, practicing independence while still leaning on me. My job started shifting from doing everything for him to doing things with him.

The Toddler Associate (aka the “No Mama!” era)

And then — boom — independence hit. Suddenly, my sweet sidekick turned into a strong-willed little toddler associate with opinions.

I went from being a bum wiper and dressing him from head to toe to him insisting on opening the wipes package himself and picking out his own clothes and wiggling them on. He wants to put on his own “sha-oes,” even if they end up on the wrong feet.

It’s a strange mix of pride and heartbreak watching your toddler push you away. You want them to grow, but at the same time you’re left wondering: “Okay… then what exactly is my job now?” So far, my new official title seems to be Snack Butler. (And honestly, once he figures out the fridge, I may be out of that gig too.)

The Mom Guilt Rollercoaster (when they stop crying at drop-off)

The hardest sting? The first time he stopped caring when I left for work. At drop-off, I’d say, “Mama’s leaving now,” and before I could even finish, his toes hit the floor and he was racing toward the toy cars. No hug, no tears, no looking back. My heart sank. At first, I assumed it was me — that I was working too much, that he felt less attached. But after some reading, I learned it’s actually a developmental milestone. Toddlers eventually master object permanence, which means they finally get that when you leave, you’ll come back. It’s not rejection. It’s security. Still, I won’t lie — it stung the first time he didn’t care if I walked out the door.

The Shift in the Mama Role (from caretaker to guide)

This toddler associate stage has completely redefined my role as a mom. My son not only knows he’s separate from me; He’s curious about cause and effect. He tests boundaries like it’s his full-time job. Honestly? Some days I feel like I’m raising Johnny Knoxville 2.0 — all stunts, no fear. (Boy moms, I know you feel me.) I’m sure the girls are wild too but hey I am a biased boy mama over here.

I used to give 110% of myself just to keep him alive and growing. Now, the shift is toward helping him build on what he’s learning, guiding him through choices, exposing him to new environments, and shaping the kind of little human he’s becoming.

In the baby stage, I was his everything. Now, I’m more like Jiminy Cricket — Hanging over his shoulder whispering (and sometimes pleading) about right from wrong.

The Learning Curve (tantrums, testing limits, patience)

The toddler stage has been the steepest learning curve yet — for both of us. He has full-blown meltdowns now, and what worked as a baby doesn’t always work anymore for him as a toddler. Sometimes redirection works, sometimes validation of feelings, sometimes choices but at the end of the day, sometimes the toy I offer gets whipped right back at me and I’m back to the drawing board. 

And staying calm? Easier said than done when the peanut gallery is watching your child channel the Incredible Hulk, arching his way out of the car seat while you swear under your breath: “Yes, he’s mine.” while you worry people might be thinking you picked him up from the park the way he's protesting.

Why This Stage is Still Magical

Here’s the thing: despite the chaos, this is still one of my favourite stages so far.  He’s so much more cognitive now. Our activities are engaging, his little personality shines, and I get these glimpses of the person he’s becoming. Sure, my patience gets tested (sometimes hourly), but I wouldn’t trade it.  This stage has shown me the depths of the motherhood journey and how I will continue to be needed in different ways.

Promotion, Not Demotion

In the end, I’ve realized that him needing me less doesn’t mean I’ve been demoted as a mom. It means I’ve been promoted to a new role.

Motherhood isn’t about wearing the same hat forever — it’s about shifting, evolving, trying on different hats as our kids grow. Sometimes it feels uncomfortable. Sometimes it brings guilt. But every shift is proof of growth — theirs, and ours.