I Am Now Andy’s Mom
With the upcoming release of Toy Story 5, I realized something. I was the same age as my twins are today when Toy Story came out in 1995. I vividly remember the squeaky lamp hopping across the big screen, spelling out Pixar, at the start of the movie. I remember being blown away by the first-ever completely computer-animated movie. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen before.
I had no idea how much that movie ticket cost at the Galleria. Or the popcorn and Coke ICEE. All I had to worry about was if I should try to go to the bathroom before the previews or hold it in. Fast forward to 2026, I’m the one buying the pre-sale movie tickets for the newest Toy Story. I’m the one packing the contraband of candy in my oversized purse and reminding everyone to use the bathroom before we leave the house.
I am now Andy’s mom. And I love it.
As a child, Andy’s mom barely registered in the movie. She was no more of a thought in my mind than that ticket price. She was literally just a lady in mom jeans. But now, watching the movie through the eyes of a parent, I see her completely different. She was the one packing the moving boxes and driving the van to the overpriced arcade. Doing whatever she needed to do to get Andy’s room decked out in the character of choice. Sending him to that very expensive summer camp he loved (while most likely waiting by the computer at midnight because it sells out in three minutes).
We spend years creating the magic while rarely being the center of it. We are the behind-the-scenes crew laying out the presents at midnight, getting the sports uniforms washed in time for the double header, packing the lunches for school, and the orange shirt for Orange Shirt Day. Just like my mom did, just like my kids will do one day for their children. And so on.
Writing this article has made me realize something. These years are going by faster than I ever dreamed possible. This summer, I will take the extra cuddle, say yes to sleeping in my bed, watch the movie past bedtime, go on the bike ride, and play the make-believe game. One day my twins won’t be eight anymore. They will be Andy’s mom.
