Can I tell you a secret?
I’m not one of those moms that has sunshine and rainbows oozing out my pores.
Sometimes I wish I could be, but I’m just really not.
And before you think I’m calling these women out, I’m not. I know a few of them and the ooziness is for real (that sounded weird, but… shouldering on!)
I admire their ability to paint childhood with such an ethereal brush.
But here’s my reality:
The minute I sit down to write a flowery poem to my daughters,
(probably while going to the bathroom *cough catching up on my social media while hiding in the bathroom)
a certain two year old will somehow discover my hiding place and make me lose any semblance of a train of thought I may have had.
But here’s the thing:
I love my kids so much that I kind of can’t handle it.
And I’ve been known to cry myself to sleep at the thought of my girls leaving for college (dramatic much?).
And while I love them more than anything, I’m just not able to ignore the fact that on a lot of days I feel so largely overwhelmed by this whole mothering thing that all I can do at the end of the day is muster is a good laugh at all the crazy that happened throughout our day.
In other words, I have a hard time waxing poetic when I’m “ignoring” our fifth tantrum of the day.
Or when I’m wondering how a hundred stickers ended up on the back of my shirt without me noticing.
But don’t worry, I make darn sure they know they are loved. I tell them through a touch on their cheek or a soft I love you in their ear. I tell them by having a tickle fight when they need attention or hugging them when they say they need one. I tell them by eating every meal with them and teaching them about household chores and responsibility. I tell them when we laugh at an “oopsie” instead of making them feel bad about not being perfect.
It’s real life. But it’s my version of a love letter.
Until next time,
Denim: AG (almost $100 off!)