Honestly. On days like today I want to throw a major temper tantrum, pull the covers over my head and not come out of our room until tomorrow.
The minute I woke up little voices were calling to me: "Mommy can I? Mommy will you? Mommy I can't..."
My friend Shannon and I often lament that we are done adulting. We say it jokingly but deep inside we really mean it. A lot. Like every day at some point. We just want to pull out our coloring books and a bottle and be kids.
See, some days, the weight of it all is so daunting. There are actually real, live human beings that depend on me for everything. And some days, it is just too much.
It's a constant barrage of mental over stimulation. I never finish a sentence. A thought. A list. A book. A bath. A prayer. Because little people need me.
The same little people that I prayed for. Begged God to bring to me. All five of them.
Then the guilt creeps in. "Other moms do it."
Well, I'm not other moms, I'm me. This. This right here is my reality. And now that I have taken a minute to pour it out, I feel less alone in the mess.
I still don't want to adult today. So, I issue a proclamation: