Every single day I race against the clock. Up long before the sun, I push the envelope to see just how much I can get done in a day.
There are deadlines and conference calls. Emails and meetings. Appointments and doctor visits. School activities and papers. Laundry and some semblance of a dinner; healthy of course.
Yesterday there was no winning. Yesterday was full on survival mode. Head down, foot on the gas … mama needs to GO type of day.
Yesterday looked like leaving work early for a dentist appointment, a phone conference in the car and doctor appointment for my little man all within the span of three hours.
Did I nail it? Hardly. Speeding? Most probably.
I was doing all the things and sucking at all of it.
Always hustling from point A to point B while my mind goes one hundred miles an hour. Dropping balls right and left.
Sis, by the end of the day I had shoved seven mini donuts in my mouth. SEVEN.
I ate copious amounts of chips and salsa because I have zero willpower.
I microwaved a pot roast from Costco and called it a gourmet dinner.
I negotiated and bribed my toddler to eat popcorn chicken, macaroni and cheese and five green beans.
I rewashed the laundry for the third time – because clearly I suffer from memory lapse.
I am the very definition of a hot mess. Look the word up and I’m quite certain my name will be there as a noun. No matter how hard I try to get it right, every single day the wheels fall off. Sometimes just one; other times all four. They say know your gaps, recognize your weaknesses but what if those gaps look more like craters? Infinite drops to no man’s land, because that’s me.
Here’s the kicker though – in all my mess, in my inability to juggle it all and do it with style my little guy put it all into perspective with five words.
“Mommy, I’m proud of you.”
You want to talk about a gut check. Y’all I sat on the bathroom floor and cried big fat mom tears because if I’m being honest that’s all we really want, right? To be the best mom we can be. We’re just a bunch of moms out here doing our best trying to raise amazing humans in the process.
And it got me thinking, sis. We don’t celebrate the small wins enough. We don’t celebrate the fact that every single day we keep pushing. We keep going. We keep moving forward day after day. Hour after hour.
Sure we eat donuts and shove chips and salsa in our mouth at the counter and insist to our toddler that “it’s too spicy.” We spend money on concealer and wrinkle cream to try and reverse or cover up the damage done by endless amounts of sleep deprivation, but in the grand scheme of things we are crushing it – even if you just realized that you’re on your last pair of clean underwear and it’s 8 pm. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
Start celebrating it. Celebrate the fact that day after day, hour after hour you show up. Is it perfect? No. I mean look at me. Yesterday I ate seven mini donuts, but I had happy teeth and a toddler who is proud of his mama and THAT sis, is something worth celebrating.
This piece originally appeared at They Whine so I Wine, published with permission.