Late-Night Musings: How Becoming a Mom Changes EVERYTHING (Even My View of Saturday Night)

It was 11 PM on a Saturday night—pitch dark, quiet, and yet, I found myself driving my teething, cranky toddler around the neighbourhood. The soft hum of white noise filled the car as my son, half-crying and half-screaming (the teething, nap transition, daycare transition trifecta). It was one of those nights where the car ride felt like my last lifeline—my best shot at getting him to sleep.

But as I drove along, trying my best to comfort him, something caught my eye. The streets were… full. Not just a car or two. There were people everywhere—cars zooming by, headlights glistening in the dark, and I realized, with a sudden jolt, Of course it’s busy! It’s Saturday night! People are out living their lives—going on dates, enjoying dinners, dancing, and likely laughing with friends in some cozy bar. I, on the other hand, was sitting in my trusty minivan (the one with crumbs everywhere and a few rogue toys scattered across the floor), soothing a half-awake toddler who wanted nothing more than to stay wide-eyed and unsettled.

It was one of those moments where I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. Here I was, driving in circles, praying for just one more hour of sleep, while the world around me was… living it up. How did I get here?

And then, it hit me—I’m the one who’s changed. The world hasn’t stopped; I have. Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, I had shifted into a new reality—one where late-night outings and carefree weekends seem like a lifetime ago.

I used to be the one out there—meeting friends for drinks, catching late shows, darting through the streets without a care in the world. But now? Now, here I am, driving my minivan in circles at 11 PM, my son’s soft cries filling the car as I try to soothe him. And you know what? In a strange, illogical way, this is exactly where I want to be. It doesn’t make sense. I used to be a social butterfly, thriving in the hustle of Saturday nights, yet somehow, right now, with a toddler in tow and crumbs on the floor, this moment feels... right. It’s exhausting, sure. But more than that, it’s peaceful in its own quiet way. And honestly, as much as I once thought I’d miss those carefree nights out, I realize now that I don’t. This—being here, in this moment, with my son—is exactly where I’m meant to be.

It’s a shift I never saw coming, but one I’m strangely at peace with.

How did this happen? How did I go from wanting to be out on the town, to now embracing these small, quiet moments in the middle of the night? I never saw it coming. I never saw how my priorities would change so completely, how my perspective would shift in ways I didn’t even know were happening until it was too late.

It’s almost like motherhood has a way of sneaking up on you, changing you from the inside out, one small shift at a time. And before you even realize it, you’re content with these late-night drives, hoping that you’ve got just enough gas to make it through the next hour.

So while everyone else is out there, choosing freely to be on the road on a Saturday night, I’ll be here—grateful for the peace that comes with a quiet drive, for the small moments with my little one, and for the unexpected joy that comes with this new season of life.

The nightlife? I’ll leave that to the other people. For now, I’m exactly where I need to be.