Why knowing my mom was human made her even more super

When I was little, I really believed my mom was a superhero.

She always knew exactly where everything was—from my missing Hello Kitty pen to that safety blanket I just had to have for bed. She could fix almost anything with a roll of paper towels, a bit of tape, and a kiss on my scraped knee. Somehow, even after a full day of work (which, by the way, involved wrangling other people's kids too), she still had the energy to tug me to bed after storytime, carry me half-asleep to pre-school when I refused to get up, and answer my endless, bizarre questions about the world—as if she hadn’t already given the day everything she had.

My mom felt unstoppable. Untouchable. Larger than life in the best, most wonderful way.

But somewhere along the way—maybe in our twenties, maybe even later—something shifts.

Maybe it happens the first time we notice tiny wrinkles gently etching themselves around her eyes.

Maybe it’s that stubborn strand of grey she no longer bothers to hide.

Or maybe it’s when we become parents ourselves—fumbling half-asleep through night feedings and lullabies—wondering how Mom made it all look so easy, so natural, when we feel like we’re barely holding it together.

Slowly, the glossy, all-knowing, all-powerful façade of Mom starts to dissolve and fade.

And in its place, we finally see the woman behind it all. Our moms are—and you might want to sit down for this—flesh and blood themselves.

We realize they weren’t born Super Moms, with all the answers baked in. They learned as they went—stumbling, stretching, second-guessing, and figuring it out—just like we are now.

And still, they show up.

Still, they give and give, often more than they have to spare.

Still, they hold it all together, even when the world asked for too much.

Being strong when you feel strong is one thing. But showing up with open arms even when you're tired, worried, and stretched to your limit? That’s the real superpower.

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It’s showing up after a long day of work to sit through yet another piano recital or soccer practice, even when she desperately wants to collapse into bed.

It’s putting on a smile and planning birthday parties with homemade cakes and hand-cut decorations, even when money is tight and stress is high.

It’s comforting us through a heartbreak when her own heart might be quietly breaking for reasons we’ll never fully know.

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The truth is, most of our moms didn’t have a guidebook.

Maybe they were the first women in their families to chase careers.

Maybe they were the first to navigate divorce, single parenthood, immigration, or the heavy, complicated layers of generational trauma.

Maybe they were the first to stand up and say, "I want something different for my children—and for myself."

When we were young, it was so easy to believe Moms had all the answers tucked neatly in their back pockets. But then we grow up and realize—nope. They were winging it. They were tired. They were scared. They were overwhelmed, too.

And still, somehow, they kept going anyway.

And that? That’s what makes them super.