A few years back, I sent my husband a shocking photo. To be precise, it was a snapshot of my 2-year-old’s room, utterly smeared with poop. I stumbled upon this mess after hearing furniture scraping against the tile floor while he was supposed to be napping.
With a knot in my stomach, I opened the door, whispering to myself, “Please, let it not be what I think it is.” After all, this wasn’t our first encounter with this kind of chaos. (Thank goodness for tile floors!) Unfortunately, my worst fears were confirmed, and the scene was even worse than I had imagined.
I stood there, momentarily paralyzed by the sight of my precious little one in such a state, and thought, What on earth?! I know that sounds dramatic, but really, what on earth?! I whisked the little troublemaker to the shower, put on my latex gloves, grabbed my cleaning supplies, and got to work. Meanwhile, my youngest was wailing from his seat in the other room as I crawled around on the floor, scrubbing away and trying not to breathe through my nose. With the baby crying and my messy toddler singing in the shower upstairs, I felt the tears welling up. It was the final straw of an already overwhelming day.
In that moment, I thought, I did not sign up for this. Nowhere in the motherhood handbook did I find a section about crawling on all fours while cleaning up poop. How did I overlook that? Was it hidden between the endless rounds of the alphabet song and safety talks about crossing the street? Someone please pull out the contract because I don’t remember agreeing to this.
But, of course, I did. The moment I decided to embrace motherhood, I accepted all its terms—caring, loving, cleaning, and protecting another human being. I would do anything for my children, even the less glamorous tasks that come with raising kids (and if I could avoid the literal poop, that would be great).
Fast forward to today: my oldest is now 5, and my youngest is 3. Since that poop incident, we’ve been on a wild parenting ride filled with ups and downs. I’ve faced tough situations, scary moments, and heart-wrenching experiences. Most days, I navigate it all with humor and grace. Most days, I feel like I can conquer anything, like a superhero.
Yet, I know I’m not invincible. I face emotional limits like everyone else—those little reminders that I’m human. When I say I’m having a tough day, I’m not trying to compete. It’s not a “my struggles are worse than yours” contest. I recognize that many are dealing with challenges I can’t even imagine. Please believe me when I say that I think of you in your tough times and sometimes feel a pang of guilt about my own challenges. Lately, it feels like everyone is caught in a comparison game of who has it better or worse. Honestly, I’m not a fan of that.
At the end of the day, regardless of our individual struggles, we’re all in this together. Wouldn’t it be simpler if we supported each other rather than striving for a nonexistent prize? Some days are fantastic; others are downright dreadful, and I’m not afraid to acknowledge that.
So here I am, metaphorically standing on my mountaintop, cheering you on with a heartfelt “We’ve got this!”
To anyone caring for a sick child, I salute you!
To anyone navigating a new path with a loved one who has a disability, I salute you!
To those facing infertility, I salute you!
To anyone juggling a chaotic household at bedtime, I salute you!
To those tired of the “When are you having kids?” questions, I salute you!
To all parents and non-parents alike, young and old, I salute you!
To everyone having a challenging day, juggling work or relationship issues, I salute you!
And to those having a fantastic day today, you deserve a round of applause! Just kidding—I salute you too!
And especially to anyone reading this while their toddler is downstairs creating a mess, I salute you and wish you the best of luck. Now, off to whip up some pancakes for dinner with my little ones. We didn’t make it to the grocery store today, but there’s always tomorrow.