Some days I feel as if I can do it all. Make nutritional meals, stop and take the time to explain, play, and comfort my kids when they need me. I can dress them in matching outfits, brush hair and teeth, remember their favorite stuffed animals for the car rides—switch the laundry before leaving the house, write, pay a bill, all while growing a human. I climb into bed that night content with my efforts and award myself with an internal high-five and gold star for excellence in all-things adulting.
I wake up the next day and feel zero motivation for the grind. Suddenly I am uninspired—I cannot possibly apply another band-aid to factious boo-boos and I begrudge that my life has come down to loading and unloading a dishwasher while listening to another song from Frozen. No, I don’t want to build a snowman.
I’m amazed by the polar shift in my attitude. I chose this life and sometimes I am so grateful it is hard to breathe. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed it is hard to breathe. So let’s just breathe. Unfortunately, there are no trophies for “successfully” running errands with 2.55 kids since your decision to let both kids steer their own mini shopping carts in Trader Joe’s while picking out food items, could be another mother’s version of hellish-chaos in the form of herding cats. The barometer of success, I believe should be measured by the happiness of your child. Since this is their season, their happiness could also be yours. Never mind the meltdowns at checkout when you deny them chocolate, they will learn, just as you have, that the tough stuff is necessary to shape us. It cannot all be matching ballerina dresses and gold stars and snowmen. But it can be all heart— even on the days I run out of patience, I can promise we will never run out of love.