I am a mama. I live with my husband and four children in a tiny house. And I’m tired. If I could get through just one day without an emotional breakdown over socks, I would be thrilled. My children are tempermental. They are ACTIVE and exhausting, constantly testing their boundaries.
I don’t want to admit how often I become Mommyzilla trashing all the “treasures” in my house. I roar unnecessarily at the bystanders and scare them into their rooms. Mommy can’t stand hearing her name ONE. MORE. TIME. They really shouldn’t need me like this.
Yet they do, and they keep needing me.
And if one more person tells me to enjoy this time because it’s over before you know it, so help me!
My goal each morning is to make it through until I can put them to bed. I may even try to get the dishes done.
And then I turn my head and see this
It is all-consuming work–this parenting thing. It’s thankless and messy. It’s an anxiety attack on steriods. There’s not a night where I don’t fall into bed thinking about everything I did wrong during the 3 seconds it takes me to fall asleep.
But then in the morning I wake up, and somehow I do it all again with renewed strength. Because I am a parent–a completely imperfect parent that screws things up more than I do things right. That’s why parents are strong. Though we keep getting knocked down, each day we get back up and start again.
Because I have today and only today– with opportunities to roar and hug, feed and clean, fold laundry and giggle, defend and discipline, apologize and cry. And I’m going to embrace it all.