Y’all I’m sure the years will go fast (though I’d place a bet our toddler has been 2 for no less than a decade now), but right now the days feel like eternity.
I eat up the snuggles but they don’t come as often as the meltdowns in isle 4. For real. The local grocery store Karen probably has CPS on speed dial.
So, maxed out mama, I raise my coffee mug that I’ve reheated twelve times and forgotten in the microwave for half a day, to you. Because you are a hero; the real MVP. Out there wearing pants that haven’t been washed in a questionable amount of days, choosing to ignore the dumpster fire your kids call a playroom, so you can get a minute of peace to… Nope. They’re fighting again. What in the actual hell!?
Okay. We can do this. Just eleventy more years of this until they can handle themselves and we get our lives back and start missing these days, right?!
So I will pull up my maxed-out mama leggings, throw on a shirt I find in what I think is the clean pile of laundry permanently residing in the corner of our bedroom floor, and put on my crown that resembles a messy bun of mom hair and dry shampoo, and I will slay this day… At least until nap time. I can make it to nap time.
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This post originally appeared at The Mama on The Rocks, published with permission.
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