Mothering In Three time Zones: Toddlers, Teens and a Twenty-Something

One still calls me “Momma”, one grunts from behind a closed door, and one texts me from his own kitchen.

Some days, I feel like a human time traveler.

At any given moment, I could be wiping peanut butter off a five-year-old’s face, reminding a teenager that deodorant is not optional, and Venmo-ing my grown son grocery money so he doesn’t survive on energy drinks and freezer waffles.

I’m a mom living in three emotional time zones:

One still thinks I’m magic.
One thinks I’m deeply uncool.
One loves me best from about 60 miles away.

And honestly? It’s a little unhinged.

Let’s start with the little one. He still climbs into my lap like it’s his job. Everything is dramatic and adorable. He tells me I’m beautiful even when I’m in sweatpants and my hair looks like a rats nest. He needs snacks, snuggles, and a new favorite toy or app every 36 hours.

Then there’s the teenager.
He lives in a state of eye roll. He grunts more than he speaks and thinks I’m about 85 years old in vibe. He communicates in memes and sarcastic one-liners. But sometimes he’ll crack a joke that sounds just like me — and I know I’m still getting through.

And finally, my oldest, who has officially launched. He’s out there in the world being an actual adult (kind of). He calls me when he’s confused by taxes, raw chicken, or emotions. Our relationship has shifted — it’s less about fixing and more about just being there. And I’ll take it. Because when he texts me “Love you, Mom,” I don’t care if he only did it because he’s out of quarters for laundry.

Mothering three boys at three wildly different stages is like trying to follow three separate plotlines while also starring in the show. There are days I forget who needs to be picked up where, who hates crunchy peanut butter, and who’s mad at me for breathing too loud.

I’m the cruise director. The therapist. The ATM. The comfort blanket.
I’m switching emotional gears 24/7 and pretending I don’t cry in the pantry on Tuesdays.

And yet…

There are moments.
Oh, there are moments.

When the little one hugs my neck like he never wants to let go.
When the teen mumbles, “Thanks, Mom” and actually means it.
When the oldest tells me he’s proud of how I raised him (even if it’s followed by, “Do you still have my birth certificate?”).

I used to think I’d reach a phase where it would all get easier.
Spoiler: It doesn’t. It just gets… different. Quieter in some ways. Louder in others.
But the love? It stretches across every season. It adapts. It grows. It gets sillier and softer and deeper.

If you’re mothering in multiple zones — emotionally, developmentally, or even just mentally on different days — I see you.

This is not easy.
But it’s good.
And you’re doing better than you think.

To recap:

My five-year-old thinks I’m a queen.
My teen thinks I’m a background character in his own Netflix special.
And my grown son? He thinks I’m Google, Instacart, and a motivational speaker rolled into one.

Motherhood is weird.
Beautiful.
Messy.
Hilarious.
Holy.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With love (and snacks always in my purse),
J

Your turn- Are you parenting across different stages? Tell me your favorite recent mom moment- the sweet, the funny, the totally chaotic. I’m all ears (and probably wiping someone’s nose as I read it).