My daughter shows up at my office door. “I’m hiding from my kids,” she tells me. Wordlessly I motion her in. This is not the first time.

We both know the drill. She stays for a while, eats my popcorn, and talks about her challenges. I share my popcorn, listen to her day and share some of my day which she listens to while we finish the popcorn. We talk about the coming week, a couple of things we hope we can get done, and any other random thing that comes to mind.

The important thing is, we’re together. We relax. Rejuvenate. Replenish. Eventually reset. Because we’re moms, and sometimes moms just have to disappear, hide out, lean on each other, and pull their sanity back to themselves.

We know it’s time to disappear when…

We haven’t gone to the bathroom alone since we can remember. Same with showering. And bathing.

We hear ourselves yelling, “This is the last time I’m going to tell you kids this for the last time!”

We haven’t had a good night’s sleep in the past year and don’t have any reason to believe it’s going to get better.

We’re exhausted from trying to keep a toddler, who seems set on self-destruct mode, from succeeding.

We’re drowning under a deluge of hormonal angst from a teen daughter. Or the moodiness of a teen son.

We wonder if the day will ever come when we believe we’re in charge of our world.

We panic when we realize we will never stop worrying about the people we created and fiercely love.

What husbands and kids often don’t understand is that if Mom isn’t functioning well, no one functions well. Mom is the glue that holds everything and everyone together. She’s the one who operates at several levels, hyper-focused on several things at once. She can juggle more in a day than most can in a week. As long as she’s able to get up in the morning, pull everyone out of bed and into clothes, put food in their stomachs, books in their backpacks, confidence in their heads and courage in their hearts, her family will head out the door and survive. Anyone who grasps that fact will realize how important it is to preserve their core keeper. Sadly, many don’t.

Meanwhile, for moms, it’s scary business when we realize how much everyone depends on our wellbeing. This becomes most apparent when we are not doing well. Our greatest shock is the day we head home with our firstborn. We’re still in disbelief that those people at the hospital will just let us take this kid home. There’s this panic going on in our head, “Wait! I hurt. I don’t feel good. I don’t think I’m ready for this. She’s so little! What am I supposed to do? What if I mess this up?”

The truth is, we will mess it up. Again and again. Because motherhood is based on making it up as we go. We are basically first responders for every single thing that happens in our family’s lives. A kid throws up, Mom cleans it up. A shoe goes missing, Mom hunts it down. A heart gets broken, Mom offers a shoulder. A book report needs writing, Mom helps get it done. A prom invitation comes, Mom produces a dress. A dog dies, Mom calms the sorrow. A quarrel starts up, Mom quiets the combatants. A play is performed, Mom is the photographer. A game is played, Mom cheers from the sidelines. The list is as endless as the possibilities.

Every mom has a mom, a tailored guide who knows better than anyone how to help her survive motherhood. My daughter munching popcorn in my office sought her mom to escape her kids. The irony of that will hit her in a day or two. When it does, she’ll likely smile. Maybe chuckle.

The comfort lies in knowing I will always be a mom. I will always be needed. And I will always need my mother. In some wonderfully orchestrated way, motherhood offers an enduring generational connection.

Definitely something to celebrate.