At an indoor playground the other day, I watched as a young, female employee put on a hazmat suit to clean up a small spot of throw-up beneath a swing. She rolled her eyes as she pulled on the gloves and opened a special "puke kit," saying, "This is why I'll never be able to have kids."

Instinctively, I found myself uttering the magic words meant to allay any fears of having children: "It's different when it's your own kid." It's a phrase that's supposed to calm would-be mothers about crying, blowouts, snotty noses and public tantrums.

It's also a phrase that used to irk me to no end before I had a baby because I thought, "Oh, really? Can it really be that different when the vomit came from your baby? It's still vomit, folks."

But a year into this motherhood thing, I've come to terms with the phrase and realized that it is true down to the last syllable — it IS different when it's your kids.

But the thing that's different is not the kids, it's you.

Motherhood changes you — for the better. I can do things now that I never dreamed I'd be capable of, and staring down a poopy diaper is the least of them.

I now not only don't mind a diaper blowout from the changing table that hits the wall, I'll even take pictures of it and put them in the baby album. Bodily fluids no longer send my stomach into cartwheels but have me sniffing and searching for any signs of illness.

But it's not just the gross stuff. I've also become an amazing multitasker, capable of holding a baby, preparing a bottle, cleaning the dishes, making a mental grocery list and yelling at a telemarketer all at the same time.

I'm incredible.

For me, motherhood is not so much a state of being but an ongoing transformation. Every day I'm becoming a mom and struggling to define exactly what that means.

So far, I've discovered I can:

• Get showered, dressed and ready in less than 10 minutes. Of course my definition of public-ready has changed drastically from make-up and coiffed hair to simply not having any obvious spit-up stains on my shirt or red marker on my arm.

• Lift my own body weight in diapers, bottles, car seats and anything else I might need for a 20-minute trip to the grocery store.

• Talk for hours on end about my daughter's bowel movements and eating habits — and actually be fascinated by the conversation.

• Write this column with an 18-month-old dive-bombing from the couch cushion onto my lap.

And while I'm constantly amazed at how far I've come as a mom, there's one change that still surprises me most: my capacity to love.

I never really understood the idea of a love so intense that it borders on pain until I first watched my daughter sleep. Now 18 months later I'm still surprised by the sharpness of the emotion.

In those sleepy moments, listening to the rhythm of her breath, I know for sure that being a mom has changed me more than I ever dreamed it could.

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Erin Stewart's blog, Just4Mom, can be found Tuesdays and Thursdays at deseretnews.com. E-mail: estewart@desnews.com