It’s nearly noon, and I find myself glued to the kitchen counter, where I’ve been for what feels like ages, slicing fruit for lunch. Suddenly, I hear the rumble of a delivery truck. Oh no, I forgot the dogs are outside, and they’re barking up a storm at the poor delivery guy. In my pajama bottoms and hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days, I dash outside to hush the dogs and grab the package. My kids, adorned in their eclectic dress-up outfits, are squeezing past me to greet the delivery man.
I’m juggling two dogs and three kids, desperately trying to prevent my household chaos from spilling out into the street. The dogs are barking, the kids are pushing each other, and the delivery guy is inexplicably attempting to give the dogs a treat they clearly don’t want. Thanks, but maybe you should just make a run for it.
Once I manage to herd everyone back inside, I realize that the neighbors and the delivery guy just got a rather unflattering view of me—no bra and all. Awesome. My nursing tank, which hasn’t been used for its original purpose in almost two years, offers about as much support as a paper towel. My kids, looking like they just rolled out of a tornado, are clamoring to see what’s in the package.
“What’s the delivery guy’s name?” one child asks, while her twin sister tugs at my shirt and asks, “Does he have a dog?” and the 2-year-old whines, “I’m SO HUNGRY!” all at once. Little hands and loud voices are everywhere, and my brain is in overdrive. I’m trying to be calm, but if they don’t get off me right this second, I might have to cancel lunch altogether.
“Please stop touching me. And stop bothering your sister. I really need to make lunch.”
“Don’t touch that knife on the counter. It’s A KNIFE. Seriously, do I have to say this out loud? Can you all just step out of the kitchen so I can finish lunch?”
I really don’t want to raise my voice.
“Maybe you could tidy up some toys while I get lunch ready because there’s a mess everywhere. Can we please do this together?”
But then it happens. “Did you just hit your sister AGAIN? Get away from the trash! GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW, OR NO ONE GETS LUNCH! EVER!”
They finally leave, but I’ve yelled. Ugh. Why can’t I handle this better?
I sink down onto the kitchen floor and let the tears flow.
I cry because the demands of motherhood are never-ending.
I cry because I’m exhausted and in desperate need of a shower.
I cry because it’s taking me forever to chop these stupid plums.
And I cry because I love these kids more than anything. They’re beautiful, funny, and so complicated, yet today, they’ve pushed me to my limit. They deserve my patience, and I want to give it to them, but right now, I just want to hide.
Suddenly, I hear clattering dress-up shoes approaching.
“Mommy?”
Great, they’ve found me. I quickly wipe my face.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?” one of them asks.
“Oh, I’m just taking a break. Lunch will be ready soon.”
But if I’m honest with myself, I’m not taking a break. I’m breaking.
Days like this, moments like this, when motherhood feels like it might crush me, are so tough. I feel like everything I do is for everyone else, and I’m completely drained. I want to disappear.
Yet, I take a deep breath and remind myself that not every day is like this. Not every moment feels so overwhelming. I think back to this morning when the 2-year-old woke up with a big smile. Even though I was tired, I wrapped her in a hug, inhaling her sweet scent. And just two days ago, the house was relatively clean, which felt nice.
I may be breaking, but I’m not broken. Honestly, I’m not sure how I’ll navigate this chaotic phase of motherhood, let alone get through today. I suppose I’ll just start with these ridiculous plums.
I stand up and finish slicing the fruit. Lunch is almost ready.
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In summary, motherhood can be overwhelming, especially on days when everything seems to go wrong. Yet, in the midst of chaos, it’s essential to take a moment to breathe and remember that not every day will be like this. Finding the balance between caring for our children and ourselves is a constant struggle, but we are not alone in this journey.