Typing this while hiding in my bathroom because it’s literally the only place I can get 5 minutes alone
Hey mama. Yeah, you – the one reading this with one eye while your toddler tries to climb you like a jungle gym, or maybe you’re the one sneaking this read during your lunch break because adult content that isn’t Bluey feels like a luxury now.
I see you. I AM you.
I’m sitting here with mascara smudged under my eyes (yesterday’s mascara, if we’re being honest), Jared’s asking me for the 47th time if he can have a snack even though he just ate lunch, and Maddie just had a diaper explosion that somehow defied physics. This is my life. This is our life.
So let’s talk about the stuff nobody puts in the parenting books. The real stuff. The ugly crying in your car stuff.
My Brain is Like a Browser With 847 Tabs Open
You know that feeling when your computer is running slow because you have too many tabs open? That’s my brain. Every day. All day.
Right now I’m thinking about:
- Is that smell coming from Maddie or did something die in the kitchen?
- Jared needs new sneakers but do I buy them now or wait for the next growth spurt?
- What the hell am I making for dinner? Again?
- Did I remember to pay the electric bill?
- Why is there always laundry? WHERE DOES IT ALL COME FROM?
- I should probably shower today… or maybe tomorrow is fine
My husband will walk into a room and ask “what are you thinking about?” and I just laugh. WHAT AM I THINKING ABOUT? Everything. All the time. The mental load is real and it’s exhausting and it never stops.
Last week I made a list of everything I keep track of in my head. It was three pages long. THREE PAGES. Meanwhile, my husband needs me to remind him when his own dentist appointment is.
Sleep is Dead to Me
Remember sleep? That thing we used to do for 8+ hours at night? LOL.
I’m currently running on 3.5 hours of broken sleep because Maddie decided 2 AM was party time, and then Jared had a nightmare at 4:30. I look like an extra from The Walking Dead, but with more spit-up stains.
People keep telling me to “sleep when the baby sleeps.” WHEN? When she naps for 20 minutes in my arms and wakes up the second I try to put her down? When am I supposed to pee? Eat? Remember my own name?
I’ve fallen asleep standing up while brushing my teeth. I’ve put coffee in the baby bottle warmer. Yesterday I tried to unlock my car with the TV remote. This is what sleep deprivation does to your brain, people.
And don’t even get me started on the moms who brag about their babies sleeping through the night at 2 months. Good for you, Karen. Some of us have feral children who think sleep is optional.
Mom Guilt Should Be Its Own Mental Health Diagnosis
OH MY GOD THE GUILT. It’s everywhere. About everything.
I feel guilty when I work late and miss bedtime. I feel guilty when I don’t work enough and we’re tight on money. I feel guilty when I give Jared chicken nuggets for dinner three nights in a row. I feel guilty when I let Maddie cry for two minutes while I pee.
But you know what I feel REALLY guilty about? Sometimes I hide in the pantry and eat cookies. Sometimes I pretend I don’t hear Jared calling my name so my husband has to deal with it. Sometimes I fantasize about a hotel room by myself for just one night.
The Pinterest moms make it worse. You know the ones – their kids eat homemade organic everything, never watch screens, and apparently never have meltdowns in Target. Their playrooms look like magazine spreads. Their kids match their decor.
Meanwhile, I found a goldfish cracker in my bra yesterday and couldn’t remember how long it had been there.
I Used to Be a Person
This one hits hard. I used to have hobbies. I used to read books without pictures. I used to have conversations about current events instead of debating whether that’s poop or chocolate on the wall.
I miss the person I was before kids sometimes. I miss sleeping in on Saturdays. I miss spontaneous dinner dates. I miss wearing white clothes without fear.
Don’t get me wrong – I love being Jared and Maddie’s mom. But some days I look in the mirror and think “who is this person and what did she do with Sarah?”
I haven’t finished a hot meal in months. I haven’t watched an entire movie in one sitting since Maddie was born. My hobby now is finding matching socks. I’m not even good at it.
Time Doesn’t Make Sense Anymore
How is it that a single day can feel like it lasts 47 years, but somehow I blink and it’s already time to start dinner prep?
My days are like this: Wake up exhausted. Change diapers. Make breakfast. Clean up breakfast. Change diapers. Attempt laundry. More diapers. Lunch prep. Clean up lunch. Nap time (HAHA just kidding, nobody naps). Snack time. Clean up snacks. Dinner prep. Clean up dinner. Bedtime routine. Collapse.
Repeat forever.
I have a to-do list from 2019 that I still haven’t finished. I started watching a Netflix show when Maddie was born. She’s 4 months old now and I’m still on episode 2.
“Me time” is the two minutes between putting the kids to bed and falling asleep myself. Sometimes I spend it staring at the ceiling wondering how I’m going to do this all again tomorrow.
Everything Costs a Million Dollars
Kids are expensive. Not just expensive – financially devastating. Diapers alone cost more than my car payment. Formula prices make me want to cry real tears.
And it’s not just the basics. Jared outgrows everything constantly. Shoes, clothes, car seats – it never ends. Maddie needs bigger everything every three months. The pediatrician visits, the childcare costs, the groceries (oh god the grocery bill with a growing boy).
Then there’s the mom stuff. I need new jeans because nothing fits right anymore. I need a haircut that’s three months overdue. I need coffee. So much coffee. My Starbucks habit is probably funding someone’s college education at this point.
We’re supposed to be saving for college but we can barely afford to keep them in goldfish crackers and juice boxes right now.
I’m Surrounded by People But So Lonely
This is the weird one. I’m never alone. EVER. Someone always needs something. But I’m lonely for adult conversation that doesn’t involve discussing poop texture or negotiating screen time.
My friends without kids suggest happy hour like I can just leave at 5 PM. My friends with kids are all in the same survival mode I am. We text each other crying emojis at midnight and call it emotional support.
The deepest conversation I had this week was with the barista at the drive-through Starbucks. She asked how my day was going and I almost cried right there in my minivan.
Playdates help but they’re not really social time – they’re just parenting in a different location. You’re still breaking up fights and wiping noses, just with witnesses now.
My Body Belongs to Everyone Else
Pregnancy wrecked me. Childbirth finished the job. Breastfeeding means I’m basically a human dairy cow. My body hasn’t been my own in years.
I haven’t been to the doctor for myself since before Maddie was born. I keep rescheduling because someone gets sick or there’s a school thing. My dentist has probably forgotten what I look like.
Self-care? What’s that? A hot shower is a luxury. Painting my nails is laughable – they’ll be chipped from diaper changes in an hour anyway.
I look in the mirror and see a stranger. This isn’t the body I remember. These aren’t the boobs I signed up for. When did I get so tired-looking?
Marriage is Hard Mode Now
We still love each other, but we’re both running on fumes. Romance died somewhere between the sleep deprivation and the diaper blowouts.
Our conversations are about logistics now. Who’s doing pickup? Did you pay the babysitter? Whose turn is it to deal with the tantrum? We’re like business partners managing tiny, irrational clients.
Date nights require a congressional act to coordinate. By the time we get the babysitter briefed on bedtime routines and emergency contacts, we’re too exhausted to enjoy ourselves anyway.
We argue about stupid stuff now. Who changed the last diaper. Whether loading the dishwasher counts as “helping” with housework. How much screen time is too much screen time.
But at the end of the day, we’re in this together. Even when we’re too tired to like each other very much.
Technology Makes Everything Harder
Jared wants more screen time. I need the screens to survive some days. Then I feel guilty about both of those things.
I’m on my phone too much during 3 AM feeding sessions, but it’s the only thing keeping me awake. Then I worry I’m modeling bad habits.
The screen time battles are real. “Just 10 more minutes” turns into an hour while I deal with baby stuff. Then I feel like the worst mom ever.
But also? Sometimes Bluey raises my kids for 30 minutes so I can cook dinner without someone hanging on my leg. And that’s okay. I think.
What Actually Gets Me Through
Alright, after all that whining, here’s what actually helps:
I lowered my standards so far they’re basically underground. Clean house? HAHAHA. Matching outfits? We’re doing good if everyone has pants on. Homemade meals? Cereal for dinner is fine sometimes.
I found my mom friend. You know, the one who gets it. Who doesn’t judge when I text her at 11 PM complaining that my kid won’t sleep. Who brings wine when she comes over and doesn’t care that there are toys everywhere.
I take the help. When someone offers to watch the kids, I say yes. When my mom brings groceries, I let her. When my husband offers to do bedtime, I hide upstairs and eat ice cream in peace.
I remember they’re little for such a short time. Even on the worst days, when I’m touched out and overstimulated and ready to sell them to the circus, I try to remember that someday I’ll miss this chaos. Maybe not the diaper blowouts, but the snuggles and the silly questions and the way they smell after baths.
I give myself credit. I’m keeping small humans alive and mostly happy. I’m teaching them to be good people. Some days that’s all I’ve got, and it has to be enough.
The Real Truth
Every mom struggles. The Instagram mom, the Pinterest mom, the mom who looks like she has it all figured out – we’re all just winging it and hoping we don’t screw up our kids too badly.
Some days are harder than others. Some phases are worse than others. Right now, with a baby and a school-aged kid, I’m in the thick of it. I’m tired and overwhelmed and probably forgetting something important right now.
But watching Jared learn to ride his bike, hearing Maddie’s first laugh, getting those unexpected hugs when you need them most – it’s worth it. Even on the days when it doesn’t feel like it.
So if you’re reading this while hiding in your car eating candy you don’t want to share, you’re not alone. If you cried at the grocery store today because they were out of the specific brand of nuggets your kid will eat, I get it. If you haven’t showered in three days and you’re wearing yesterday’s shirt, welcome to the club.
We’re all just doing our best with what we’ve got. Some days our best looks like keeping everyone fed and alive. Other days we might even manage to brush our teeth before noon.
Either way, we’re enough. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.
Now excuse me while I go convince Jared that yes, he does need to wear underwear to school, and figure out why Maddie is making that face. The glamorous life continues…
PS – If you made it to the end of this, you deserve a medal. Or at least a coffee. Definitely coffee.
