We moved into our new place without putting the locks back on the toilet seats. “Pierce is older now. We will not need them.” I thought.
Very. Bad. Thinking.
I found my son standing over the toilet, his mouth sucking on a twisty straw which he had been dipping in the toilet water.
Mom fail.
What was I supposed to do with this?? I was clueless. I washed his hands, and tried splashing a little water in his mouth. Because we all know water splashing takes the germs away!
And so seems to go my mom life. I try, but I fail, over and over again. . .
I woke up with these huge ambitions of all we were going to accomplish this day. It is now nap time and so far the only productive thing we have managed is getting dressed. Well, dressed for a little while. Both kids seemed to have somehow become topless since then. The mess is piling higher, the disaster larger–at least the locks are once again on the toilets.
We have accomplished seemingly nothing. I hang my head in failure once again. Where did I go wrong? At what point did I end up that woman I swore I would never be? That mom with the half naked heathens. That woman who seems to never be able to fully screw her head on when it comes to motherhood.
My head hangs lower and I begin to cry. I need to try harder, to be more disciplined, more structured. I somehow need to find more energy. This coffee isn’t cutting it anymore. I am tired. I am spent. I am a failure and the day is only half through. The tears begin to flow faster.
Then, I stop to look around.
