I have a confession to make.
No, I’m being serious.
My kids were a little crazy this week. We caught a little tummy bug so in the course of one day I had one vomit-spewer and two diarrhea-ridden children [I realize the math may not add up: I watch a 4 month old sweet babe during the week]. But I call the bug little because it didn’t seem to really tire them out. You know how sometimes when your kids are sick all they want to do is cuddle and watch movies and you’re secretly a teeny, tiny bit thinking to yourself, “This is dreamy and totally worth the lysol.” I did not reap the cuddle benefit. Boo. So as I’m picking up toys for the trillionth [hyperbole] time with my crackly I’ve-been-washing-away-germs-all-day hands listening to the increased whining [that's right I didn't get sick cuddles but I did get sick whining] I thought:
I must be doing this motherhood thing wrong because it should definitely not be this hard.
Which is sort of funny because I feel like I’m not supposed to admit that. But come on, seriously, sometimes it’s hard. Then I thought about this question my husband asked me a few months ago. He asked if I ever thought, “Man, I am just really nailing this mom thing. I am amazing.” He makes me smile. He sees the “I sprinted around the house cleaning after I got your ‘coming home’ text” house and the dinners he sweetly commends. He sees bathed and put together children. He gets updates during the day with pictures of our latest art project or living room obstacle course. But sometimes I think he’s like a battlefield commander that doesn’t see life in the trenches. Not because he doesn’t want to or because he’s insensitive to it. He’s out making the bacon 50 hours a week; you know, like it’s his job or something.
So, that’s why we’ve got to stick together. To immerse ourselves in community with other mothers. A Band of Mothers if you will [hehe]. It’s what we’re called to do. It’s what will save our sanity. So here’s to opening up: to being honest about our struggles, to recipe sharing, to truth speaking, to hug giving, and to check-in texting. Hallelujah.