This morning at the park, I noticed a mother — young, tired, beautifully focused — playing catch with her toddler. Her body swayed in that instinctive way so many of us know, gently patting the back of a tiny newborn nestled close to her chest.

I watched them from a distance. She looked like she was doing it all — entertaining one child, soothing another, managing the careful choreography of motherhood in public. You could tell she was doing her best. You could also tell she hadn’t sat down once.

Some time passed.

Then I saw her again, approaching slowly, almost hesitantly. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “I’m embarrassed to even ask,” she said, avoiding eye contact for a moment, “but… do you happen to have any sunscreen we can use?”

That was it.

She wasn’t asking for a miracle. Just a bit of sunscreen.

But she asked as if it were something shameful — like forgetting sunscreen for your toddler on a sunny day somehow meant you’d failed.

And my heart ached.

Dear fellow mamas,

Please ask me.

Ask me if I have sunscreen.
Ask if I have baby wipes, or a diaper to spare. Ask if your little one can sit beside mine while you rest your arms, close your eyes, or nurse the baby you’ve been rocking for hours.
Ask if I have an extra snack. I probably do.

Ask if I can hold your baby while you tie your shoe.
Ask if I can push your toddler on the swing for just a minute while you take a breath.

Hand me your phone and ask me to take a picture — one where you’re actually in it. Smiling. Present. Real. Not posed, not perfect — just a memory made.

Ask for space.
Ask for time.
Ask for kindness.
Ask for help.

Not because you’re weak. Not because you’re failing. But because you’re human — and motherhood was never meant to be done alone.

And even if we’ve never met before, ask me anyway.

Because here’s the truth: I’ve been that mom, too.

The one who forgot the sunscreen.
The one who didn’t pack enough snacks.
The one whose toddler had a meltdown five minutes after arriving.
The one who cried silently in the car because she felt like she was the only one who didn’t have it together.

We’ve all been that mom at some point.

And the only thing that makes it easier — the only thing that makes it lighter — is each other.

So ask me.

Ask without shame or hesitation.

Because this job we’re doing — this sacred, beautiful, exhausting job of raising little humans — is hard enough without pretending we’re supposed to do it all on our own.

We’re not.

We were never meant to.

We are mothers.
And we are each other’s village.

Let’s not just smile politely at one another in the park.
Let’s reach out. Let’s step in.
Let’s carry what we can — even if it’s just sunscreen, or a smile, or five quiet minutes of relief.

We’re in this together.

Always have been.
Always will be. ❤️