My earliest memory of MOPS, or perhaps lack thereof, is from when I was very little. I remember that I was sick, and when I came out to the kitchen, all ready to go to MOPS, my mother told me that because I was sick I couldn’t go. I cried. I was so upset that I was going to miss out, and instead had to stay home with my dad. Things are a little different now. Instead of going to MOPS to play with the big kids and eat the snacks and see my friends, I get to be one of those “big kids.”

For the last three years, I have gone to MOPS on an almost-monthly basis. MOPS is a program designed to help mothers of preschoolers. The mothers get to leave their children, who might be anywhere from 6 months to 6 years old, with us, and go downstairs to hang out, relax, learn, share food, and, I’m certain, commiserate with one another. Upstairs is a different story.

Pine Tree Academy has always sent a van full of teenagers to help with childcare (this would be my friends and me). Enter forty children, five screaming babies, and a bunch of professional daycare ladies. You’ve probably guessed it: mayhem. But it’s a good mayhem. Children playing with trains, others reading a book, a couple building a block tower, and another on your hip—it’s tiring, it’s hot, but it’s definitely worth it. Why? Screaming babies, dripping noses? Honestly, I’ve no idea. But for some reason, it’s worth it every time.

My first year I spent in Toddler 1, which has kids ages 18 months through 2 years. There was this one kid who, every month, screamed unbearably when his mother left. It seemed like every month I was the one who held him, rocked him, and got my shirt sticky with his tears and snot. And then suddenly, after over half the year, he became the sweetest thing. He didn’t scream or kick one more time that entire year. That’s why I do MOPS—so I can see transformations like that. I guess I like to think that maybe I had a little part in making his time at MOPS something that, when he’s my age, he’ll remember as being a time he wouldn’t have given up for anything—even if he was sick.

The jobs I do aren’t glamorous—since when has wiping dripping noses been glamorous? Taking toddlers to the bathroom or mediating arguments over toy xylophones isn’t great either. But every once in a while, a kid’s face will light up when they see you, or a parent will tell you that their kid can’t stop talking about you. For me, that’s what MOPS is all about—making a difference in some little kid’s day. Plus, it never hurts to have an excuse to get down on the floor and play matchbox cars or “house.”