Mom-sense: The logic I only began to understand after I turned 20

Growing up, I was convinced my mom had a personal vendetta against fun. Late nights? Banned. Junk food? Dream on. Spontaneous outings? Only if they involved groceries. Screen time? Monitored like a national security threat.

But somehow, the older I got, the more I realised those no's weren't roadblocks; they were safety nets.

Back then, it felt unfair. While my friends lived the best life—junk food, sleepovers, Netflix marathons—I was indoors doing homework under the watchful eyes of General Mom. I called it "house arrest". She called it "parenting".

But here's the thing I didn't realise until much later: she wasn't trying to ruin my life; she was trying to shape it. While I saw restrictions, she saw protection. While I sulked about rules, she was silently building me a future where I'd thank her for every "no" she ever said.

But with time, things changed. One day, curious about her sudden chill mode, I asked why she wasn't as strict anymore. She looked at me with that knowing smile and said, "There's a time for everything." No long explanation; just one of those quiet truths she always seems to carry in her back pocket.

We expect mothers to be superhuman. Warmth on demand, food on the table, patience always stocked, and a smile through every chaos. But we forget – this is her first time too. She is figuring things out as she goes, making mistakes, getting back up, and doing it all over again.

Coming to working moms? Absolute legends. They clock out of the office and clock into their second job without flinching. Stay-at-home moms? Equally heroic, running homes like CEOs, minus the bonuses and coffee breaks.

Society often praises what it can see – promotions, paychecks, performance reviews. But motherhood is measured in lullabies sung through exhaustion, meals cooked without complaint, lessons taught through patience, and love given endlessly, even when none is returned.

To every mother – whether you're balancing board meetings and baby bottles, or spending your days running a home that never pauses – you are more than enough.

And my mom? She juggled both roles. She worked a full-time job and still made time for spelling tests, fever checks, surprise Tupperware hunts, and emotional therapy sessions disguised as dinner chats. I, of course, still found reasons to complain – cold food, a house not organised, and clothes not ironed (my own fault, but still).

So if you ever wonder what a superhero looks like—don't look up. Look home. She's probably in the kitchen reheating your food... again.

So, here's to the unsung hero in every home. To every mother – who makes love look easy, patience look endless, and multitasking look magical.

Because let's face it—if motherhood were a paid job, no company could afford the salary.